The Gray Hill Inn

[Mirelena]

Welcome to the Gray Hill Inn!
We are glad to have you as our guest for as long as you wish to stay.
It's here that you can have good food and even better drink. Make yourself at home!
Join the company and make new aqquaintances, share your songs and stories.
We'd be grateful if you would.
Enjoy your visit, because you'll never find a more homely establishment anywhere!

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Mirelena hummed an upbeat tune to herself as she bedded her horse down for the night. After seeing to it that he was brushed well and had enough hay, she turned lightly on her heel and walked toward the front door of a cozy looking Inn.

She stopped halfway across the yard and regarded the features of the establishment thoughtfully. The guest rooms, parlor, kitchen, and rather large common room were all dug out of a tall and wide hill. The Inn was as old as anyone could remember and the hill older still. Tall oak trees were dotted the hillside and, if you looked hard when the sun was just right, formed a funny face. Hoary willows stood between them. Their long, trailing branches gave the face bushy eyebrows and a great, thick beard.

Mirelena chuckled to herself and shook her head in amusement. The sound of hearty laughter drew her attention to a tall structure jutting up and out of the hill. It was extra living space for the guests. Mostly men and elves occupied the upper story. Dwarves and hobbits preferred the first floor. (Closer to the ground, you know.)

She crossed the nicely manicured lawn glancing appreciatively at the colorful flower boxes that the hostess had taken care to arrange just so. The elf climbed three stairs to the deep set porch. Overhead an ancient sign swung on rusty chains. The weather-stained wood bore the emblem of a moon. If one was observant, one would notice that its face bore an odd likeness to the face on the hill…

A few of the evening’s guests were seated on the porch and called greetings to Mirelena. She answered them in kind with a cheerful smile. Turning the knob on the front door, it opened easily into a large room filled with tables, chairs, and much merriment. She went to the bar, asked for bread, cheese and wine, then seated herself in a chair near the fire.

So much the better to watch the company, she thought.

[Maggot]

*Walks in sees Mirelena at the bar*. "I'll have an ale" I said. Hi Mirelena got anything to hear music, stories. Don't you just love this place It's beautiful isn't it?" Before mirelena could answer a crowd of people entered.

[Raithnait]

The Inn was cheery as the evening drew on, the fire casting a merry light on the smiling faces as the laughter and general merriment filled the air. Molly smiled brightly as she carried the simple meal over to the young elf.
" 'ere you are, lassie, if there's anythin' else I can do for you, you let Molly know."

The dear elderly lady had just made her way back to the bar when a young man came in asking for an ale, which she promptly handed to him as he attempted to make conversation with the young elf. She smiled benevolently at the both of them and got back to the business of running things and making sure that none of her patrons were in want of anything she could reasonably supply.

[Mirelena]

Mirelena took the small tray of food from her hostess and returned her smile. She had just taken a bite of bread when a young man came and sat beside her. He greeted her cheerily. Mouth still full, Mirelena was in a bit of a predicament, but she needent have worried. He carried on firing questions at her rapidly. This gave her time to wash down her bread with a sip of wine, but as she opened her mouth to reply, several more guests came trooping in, one after the other.
"My, it's going to be busy this evening, isn't it?" Mirelena exclaimed, somewhat surprised. She had been anticipating a quiet evening, but she knew that good memories are often unplanned.
"It may be, sir," she said, "That you will hear many good stories and sing many songs before the sun rises!" Mirelena sat back to watch the new arrivals. She thought she might have recognized a few of them, but she wasn't sure.
"I am Mirelena," she said suddenly, startling her companion, "Who might you be?"

[Elorendil]

Elorendil sat quietly beside the fire, relaxing after several days of hard, cross-country riding. She had arrived at the Inn, dusty and weary a short time earlier. After making sure that Nimar, her mare, comfortably bedded down in a roomy box stall, she had made her way inside. A frequent patron of the Inn, Molly, the Innkeeper, had recognized her almost instantly and assured her that her usual room was available. Elorendil had given the motherly woman a few gold coins in exchange for the key, then made her way upstairs.

Some time later, she emerged from her room and returned to the Common room, clothed in a modest dress of deep blue. She seated herself at her table of choice, near the window where she could watch the activity on the porch. She called for something to eat and, presently, a young girl brought her a tray laden with a variety of choice foods.

The servant girl jumped as a low rumble vibrated the table. Elorendil laughed as a large head popped into view. A long, black body followed. Panther in its form, it could easily be mistaken for a shadow in the twilight room. Elorendil stroked her feline companion's silky head and offered her a piece of meat. Dúathmin took it gently from her mistress' hand and lay down at her feet, chewing contentedly on the tasty morsel.

Elorendil sipped her wine as she gazed about the room, taking in the occupants. It's good to be back, she reflected, a smile playing about her lips.

[Maggot]

Farmer Maggot was drinking merrily, already there were 5 empty pint goblets near his arm. He shuffled around in his seat knocking one of the illustrious glass globlets smashing it as it landed. Luckily no one had noticed and he quietly swept the remains of the goblet into his inside pocket. Elorendil was sitting at the fire quietly and Mirelena also was there. But he was so drunk that he could not make anyone else out. He traipsed away out of the door, his pocket jingling. He exited and made his way home extremely drunk. Let's just say Mrs Maggot wasn't very happy!

[Mirelena]

"A bit tipsy, by the look of it."
Mirelena smirked as she answered her own question. Her attention shifted for a moment as she watched an elf with strikingly dark auburn hair step off the stairs to the upper level of the guest rooms. She was struck for a moment by a strong feeling of familiarity. I know her! she thought.

Feeling her companion shift beside her, she turned back in time to see him stand precariously to his feet. His balance was unsteady and the elven maid wondered if she should offer to help, but he managed to stagger off on his own. Mirelena's shoulders shook in silent mirth as she gathered up the abandoned mugs. Four? I thought there had been five, her eyebrows knitted together, then she shrugged, Ah, well...

When she had cleared the table beside her from its many hazards, she settled again in her seat to survey her surroundings. Molly Thistlewool was the old matron of the Inn, she had been for as long as even the eldest in the room could remember. Her quaint dress with a simple ruffled apron were endearing. Her eyes sparkled and snapped with a humor, wit, and youthfulness that belied her old age.

Mirelena watched her hustle and bustle back and forth between the common room and kitchen, but still finding the time to have a conversation here and put a customer at ease over there. The food was good, the drink was better and the company left little to be desired. Soon, Mirelena thought, We shall have to see to some music.

[YayGollum]

At some point most probably in the evening, anyone looking up there would notice a white horse walking next to a short, stocky, and hairy looking hode-podge armoured guy with a raven flying around him walking up to the top of the hill. Once there, they'd notice that an inn was built into the thing and head for the stable. The guy would probably be talking to the horse and raven on the way. Anyone paying attention would gather that the horse's name was Anthrax, and the raven's name was Shadowflaps.

After leaving his horse in the stable and probably introducing himself and his friends to any other animals that might have been in there, he and the raven would head for the inn. Before they opened the door, though, a giant eagle landed behind them with much noise. "Truor! Here I am! What, are we staying at this inn? Why? Are you bored of sleeping under the stars? Okay, fine. I'm not sure if I can fit in that door, though! Well, there are some people outside here. I can talk to them, then! You go sleep! You couldn't have enough stamina to keep up with me, anyway!"

The crazy thing would then hop around out front for a while, trying to get attention, but he'd try to find a good perch in a tree, and if it turns out that he couldn't do that, he'd head for the top of the hill, trying to look like a good lookout. Truor shook his head with amused frustration and opened the door. Seeing even one elf made him think about sleeping under the stars again, but he'd be too grateful to get away from the crazy giant eagle to say no to a good inn.

Heading for the first person who looked like they owned the place (whoever posts next, I guess, unless that person is someone who was obviously just another traveller or something) ---> "Do you have a room? Oh, and some mead, please." The raven would head for the rafters, if there are any, if not, he'd stick to the dude's shoulder and squawk at him as if he knew that he was understood.

[Raithnait]

"Why certainly, lad!" Molly replied, handing him a goblet of something that was most likely the requested mead, and explaining that the man-sized rooms where up the stairs over yonder.

[eleventy-one]

((OOC: sorry mods...i hope i'm allowed to just enter...tell me if not and i'll edit the post. and is there somewhere to post a profile?))

The pub was busteling, as most pubs were this time of day. A great noise of merrimaking surrounded the inn and the lights of it's outer tourches burned for miles around. Fuinur rode up lesurley as rainclouds closed in behind him. He liked the feel of the drizzel on his face, for it was a feeling he did not feel often. He dismounted, handing the reigns of his stallion to a young sable boy, along with a gold coin. Then he turned toward the inn. He hesitated before entering. It was always a struggle entering highly-crowded places as he was most often stereotyped, and not to his favor. The sheer wrapping silks of the Harad blew around him in a sudden gust of wind and he unwrapped the turban from around his head, for he would not need it here and it would only draw attention. He face was lean and fair. His auburn, shoulder-length, wavy hair had streaks of brown and red from the sand ind the Harad, his home. But the blue eyes. Those were unusual. They were what gave away his true heritage. He had the fair eyes and jawline of a Numrenorien, though the fair skin was tinted orange from too much sun. But his eyes, yes, Fuinurs eyes wre deep turquoise, which gave him quite a handsome and compelling appearance. But they only made the select few hesitate before judgeing him.

After taking a breath he entered the bar with his gold and wine-red scarves around him and his tight, chocolate-colored pants clinging to him from the rain. His scimitar glinted in a curved arc at his side and a leather purse swung from his belt as well. It was full of gold, for Fuinur was not just nay Haradrim, he was the Lord of the Haradrim and Commander of the Haradrim Army. The bustle and light of the inn englufed him and he guietly made his way over to the bar, calling over the bartender for a drink and sprinkleing coins on the table. He sat there, watching the people and noticeing how they stared, became silent, then picked up conversation again.

[Mirelena]

Mirelena had left her perch near the fire about an hour before sunset. She went outside, again exchanging pleasantries with the old, jaw-waggers on the porch. She turned left at the bottom of the steps, and a stroll brought her to a stream that ran just north of the Inn. Mirelena wondered briefly if it was the running water that made for such well brewed beer, or if it was just some enchantment that the ancient hill contained.

Her mind continued to wander as she easily climbed the western slope. Clouds overhead promised rain tonight. They were low, low enough that Mirelena felt that if she were just a bit taller, she might touch the vibrant colors the setting sun streaked them with.

The elven maid watched until the sun had disappeared over the horizon and the land was covered in a murky gloom. As she departed the way she had come, a light drizzle began. The soft mist clung to her clothes beading them with glistening droplets that caught the light streaming from the windows as she neared the front of the Inn. About the time she touched her foot to the first step, it began to rain in earnest. She scampered inside laughing aloud, for the rain had tickled her good humor.

Mirelena was pleased with her evening, but decided to change into a dry tunic. She wove through the company assembled inside, climbed the stairs to the relatively quiet upper hall. To her left were windows looking east toward a very dark, stormy sky, and to her right were the solid doors of the rooms.

She counted off twelve doors before stopping at the thirteenth. Mirelena produced a key from a string of twine that hung on her neck and unlocked her door. She cautiously peeked inside then, certain that she was alone, went in a lit a candle. The room was small, but comfortable. It was furnished simply. A bed with room enough for a trunk beneath it and a table with a lamp stood against the far wall. On closer inspection, a wash stand was discovered behind the door supplied with water, white soap and a white, fluffy towel. Where she go those… Mirelena wondered. A stool was cleverly concealed in plain view. Mirelena tripping over it revealed the ‘hidden’ mystery.

Satisfied with her lodgings, the elf quickly stripped off her wet outer clothes and donned a comfortable vest over her tunic and loose leggings with soft brown shoes. Smoothing her hair with a bit of water from the wash basin, she retraced her steps toward the common room. She glanced over the company; a few new (wet) faces had been added to their number. Mirelena was somewhat dismayed to find that they were mostly men, but brightened a bit when she again saw the auburn haired elf. She was seated in a slightly different position, but Mirelena did recognize her.

“Excuse me,” she said grimly as she bent near the other elf’s ear, “But is that seat taken?”

[Elorendil]

“Excuse me,” asked a familiar voice, “But is that seat taken?”

Elorendil looked up from her meal to find an old friend standing beside her. A smile lit up the elf maiden's fair face. "Mirelena!" she exclaimed, rising from her chair and embracing the other elf. "No, it is not. Please, sit." she said, motioning to the empty chair beside her. "It is good to see you again, mellon-nin," she said with a smile after her friend had been seated. "Tell me, what brings you here?"

[YayGollum]

After wandering around the common area and tossing so veiled curious looks at pretty much everyone there, Truor stomped up the stairs to find a good room. He tossed his shield and pack in a corner and thought about how good he'd feel if he took his armour off. It was then decided that he was too tired to deal with that.

Coming back down the stairs and heading back to his mead, he noticed the person from Harad. Yes, he was surprised to see one of them, but his reaction was probably more positive from the others described since he was a huge fan of learning about other cultures. Knowing that Truor intended to start up a conversation with the guy, Shadowflaps pecked at his ride's helmet.

Truor was always plunging into deals with people just as suspicious looking (at least in Shadowflaps's opinion), and the benefits they ended up with were never too good. Truor shooed the bird away and trotted right up to Fuinur. "Greetings. What would one of the Haradrim be doing so far from home?"

OOC: That reminds me ---> where exactly is this inn, anyways? I hope that Truor isn't wrong, and we're nowhere near Harad. :rolleyes:

[eleventy-one]

((OOC: I had assumed thin inn was far away from Harad, Truor, but that's a good question. Also, what age is this in?))


Fuinur turned slowly to meet the new voice that seemed, strangely, to be speaking to him. The man was dressed in heavey armor and looked rather strong and dangerous. Not that that bothered Fuinur in the least, he himself was well-built. His deep turquiose eyes surveyed the man for a few minutes before a strangely fair voice issued from his lips.

"Greetings, stranger." He wondered for a moment where this man was from for his looks were mysterious, "My buisness is such that I know little about. Therefore, I am sorry that I cannot answer you question." The words came out in a almost deep, liltling fashoin. Fuinur tucked a small strand of on red-streaked hair behind his ear as the deep chocolate and red-sand-streaked waves fell annoyingly about his face, hiding, for a moment, the deep oragney-bronzed skin of one that has seen too much sun and has fair skin. "My name is Fuinur by the way, I am the HIgh Lord of the Haradrim and the Commander of their army. What is yours?" His eyes produced a turquoise twinkle that seemed to wink at Truor and compell trust. For that was what Fuinur was best at, innocently earning trust, even when it seemed to be un-sought for.

[Ghorim]

Through the darkness of the rainy evening Helmin trudged, and as the heavens wept, their melancholy became a palpable force, weighing down on the dwarf's mind as he traversed the shadows alone. The inferno of his youthful passion had long since been snuffed out, and suddenly everything in the world felt old to him. His had been a rare obsession for one of the Khazad, to travel the outside world and learn its secrets himself, not content to merely hear of its sights and sounds secondhand. Helmin's chosen profession, however, took him to the depths of human society, as he took on all manners of shady part-time assignments, from watchman shifts to bodyguarding on up to a couple of assassinations that he had been requested to fulfill. He was hired muscle, in other words, and in many underground circles the dwarf had developed a healthy renown for his prowess with his throwing axes. In addition to this burgeoning reputation, Helmin also received healthy pay for his services, leaving him free to live comfortably and pursue new employment opportunities at a leisurely pace.

And yet with each job completed, the dwarf retreated further into himself, for he could trust no one else. Always one eye he kept open, gazing over his shoulder in search of a phantasmal assailant. Helmin had become ensnared in a tangled web of underground alliances, and he knew that one day, perhaps soon, someone would come after him, one of his colleagues, paid to extricate the dwarf from the side of some wealthy employer. His happiness withered, as no pleasurable sensation could thrill him the way it once had, before he had fully immersed himself in this dreadful occupation. Yet only the dangerous thrill of his work could even remotely stir his senses any more, and perhaps that was why he could not leave his dubious trade behind.

“This line of work is bad for the spirit,” Helmin had said once, and scattershot memories of that moment returned to the dwarf as he continued his soggy march.

He had been standing underneath the awning of a pub in some tired old town, with the rain coming down relentlessly from the skies. It cascaded down from the edge of the roof, forming a watery curtain but a few feet in front of him. He had been speaking to a tavern lass as he smoked his pipe and watched the rain. She was on a brief break, and had wanted refuge from the drunken remarks and greedy snatches that marked her average day of toil. She was a weary beauty, slender, so fragile that she always seemed precariously close to shattering before the dwarf's eyes. He had felt a twinge of sympathy in his dying heart as he took her in, shivering in the harsh temperatures of the night, with only a strange, dark-eyed dwarf for company. She was headed nowhere, Helmin could tell. Her life was a tragedy as all others, and its closing stanza was all but inevitable.

So when she tried to make conversation by asking the dwarf what he did for a living, he gave her an honest, straightforward reply. She deserved nothing less.

“I protect the investments of greedy old men,” Helmin had said in his gravelly baritone. “If that means breaking some bones, dismembering, killing… then that is what I must do.”

Her light breath came to a sharp halt at this response, and she placed a hand over her mouth in shock.

“This line of work is bad for the spirit,” he said morosely, glancing at her from beneath the brim of his helmet. “As is yours, I can see. Yet we struggle on nonetheless, aye?”

The lass lowered her hand slightly, and nodded gently. The dwarf smiled, his entire black beard shifting upward with the expression.

“That either makes us valiant or too stubborn for our own good. I'm not sure which.” He extinguished and emptied his pipe, and then reached around to place it back inside his travel pack. His eyes returned to hers, and his gaze was unrelenting. “Do not forget that which you once dreamt you would be, m'lady… sometimes that's all there's left to cling to, aye?”

Those were Helmin's final words to her, and he stepped through that curtain of rainwater into the downpour. He marched a few paces, but then stopped, turning to give the stunned lass one last smile, and a tip of his helmet. From then on, he didn't look back, his stunted form disappearing into the shadows, his natural domain.

Now here he was, another region, another inn, and it was raining once again. The structure shone out as a beacon against the rest of the night, and from within the dwarf could hear laughing and singing voices of all sorts. The festive atmosphere stood in stark contrast to Helmin's mood, but the dwarf was not so far lost to the world that he was not up for a change in his disposition.

“I shall get good and drunk tonight,” he thought with a light smile. Normally such a course of action would have been unthinkable, but the dwarf was between jobs, and still had plenty of coin to spend.

“Besides,” he mused, “should some thug come for my head, I'm still better with my weapons drunk than most are with theirs sober!”

He chuckled aloud as that thought passed his mind, and he quickened his pace as the inn neared. As he approached the structure, Helmin almost unconsciously checked his arsenal of throwing axes. Indeed, all ten weapons were present and accounted for: four tucked into his belt, four concealed in his traveling cloak, and two more stored in loops on his vest.

He shoved the door open harshly, and stomped through the opening gracelessly, tracking rainwater behind him. Within the inn's lively main room were representatives of just about every race, Khazad included. They seemed a peculiarly jolly lot, and all around the dour Helmin there was song and laughter. The overly exuberant happiness of the patrons harmlessly deflected off of the dwarf's heart. To their squinty-eyed smiles and toothy grins he felt nothing, not joy, not bitterness, not envy. He simply felt a cold disregard for all of the other travelers… they were of no concern to him.

Helmin made a beeline for the bar, and noted as he approached it that the stools, as usual, had not been designed with his folk in mind. No matter… a quick and well-practiced vault took him atop one of the towering seats. He pulled back the hood of his cloak, and removed his helmet and travel pack. Two sharp raps on the bartop brought the tender his way, and Helmin spoke his order brusquely.

“Your strongest concoction. I'll settle for nothing less.”

He placed two rather impressive-looking coins on the table.

“I assume that these will cover refills as well?” he asked with a barely discernable smirk.

The tender nodded eagerly and hurried off to get the dwarf his drink. While he waited for his order, Helmin ran his hands through his beard, trying to get out some of the water that had accumulated in his whiskers. Eventually the drink came, in a transparent mug, and Helmin thanked the tender gruffly before taking up the drinking vessel to examine its contents. He held the liquid up to the light, examining its color closely, noting the depth of its foamy head, and so on. One could say that Helmin was something of a budding connoisseur of alcoholic beverages, and he certainly took his drinks quite seriously.

Finally, satisfied by his inspection, Helmin took the mug to his lips and took a deep, slow sip of the contents. He held the fiery liquid in his mouth, forcing his taste buds to ride out the wild, burning sensation of the brew, as he let the exhilaration of the drink's intense kick wash over him. When the initial thrill soon began to wear off, he swallowed quickly, and after a brief period of contemplation, followed his first taste up with a swift, violent chug of the drink. Such was his routine in testing out new beverages.

“It pasts muster,” he thought. “Nothing special, but then again, what ought I have to expected? This is no dwarvish pub.”

Placing his drink down for the moment, Helmin glanced around the establishment. There were some peculiar looking patrons, but nothing too out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing threatening. Humans, Elves, some of Helmin's kin, a large black cat, a Halfling or two… wait… Helmin's eyes shot back to the abnormally-sized feline. Even his normally impassive countenance looked a bit puzzled upon taking in the sight of this creature. Helmin glanced to his mug. Was he drunk already? No, no… he couldn't be; he was no lightweight when it came to spirits. Someone just had an odd taste in pets, it seemed.

The dwarf took another rapid gulp of his drink. It was going to be a strange night, he could already tell.

[eleventy-one]

Fuinur glanced up from his newly-started conversation at the dwarf who entered the pub. The hardy fellow looked interesting, if nothing more. Presently he turned back to Truor, though his mind was still on the impressive array of weapons the little man possesed.

"And who are you? Where do you come from?" he asked the man in front of him.

[Morohtar]

Deren paused for a moment on his way to turn his face towards the sky, allowing the large drops of water to prick his face as they raced to to ground. A smile grew on his face as he breathed in deeply, savouring each aroma that arose from his surroundings, released by the rain. Like a fine tea that requires the freshest water to release its potent flavour, so too is the earth. He continued on his way, pulling his cloak over his head and his shoulders.

A short yelp from the trees to his left made him turn to see a small ball of red fur cowering beneath a fallen tree, making an earnest effort to stay dry. Deren laughed as he made his way towards the trees. He removed his pack and opened it, allowing the small fox to decorate his extra clothing with small, muddy footprints. He closed the top of his pack, leaving a small hole for a head to poke out, and continued on his way. He walked for a while on the trail till he saw a small Inn with smoke bellowing from the chimney in the distance. He made for it at a brisk pace, listening to the sounds of the raindrops clashing with the leaves, creating some new symphony.

He reached the Inn shortly and proceeded inside, brushing the rain off of his cloak before entering. The atmosphere seemed inviting, laughs and the sounds of mugs raised to a toast filled the common room. He found a small woman that seemed to be the caretaker and requested lodging for the night. Following a short history of the Inn, which Deren patiently endured, he recieved a small key and directions to his room.

After stowing away his things and changing into drier clothes he ventured back into the common room, his small companion following along behind him. His orange and gold ensemble seemed to clash with most patrons clothing of darker colours. He ordered a small glass of rum, still holding that it was a miracle drug for preventing colds. Hmmm, the fire seems most inviting at this moment. He made his way to one of the seats surrounding the fire and slowly sipped his rum.

[Rosalee LuAnn]

Rosaline's entrance to the inn was announced by a hefty sneeze. She had insisted upon caring for her mare, Sage, herself (The stableboy had seemed amused but not surprised, perhaps there many travelers who trusted only themselves with their horses also) and had taken the liberty of tossing in a couple flakes of hay once she had Sage settled. Since then there had been and insistent tickling sensation in her nose, but she had stubbornly held the sneeze back--until the moment she had opened the door. A few people glanced up as she entered, some with small amused smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths, but none rose to greet her--not that she had expected them to. Who would be here that Rosie knew?

She saw two elves sitting together talking happily, and an enormous black cat that seemed to be with them, or maybe just one of them. She saw that one had a plate of food in front of her that looked delicious. Rosie wasn't sure if she would have enough to buy herself a plate, at least not with any considerable amount to spare, and she needed the money to stretch. She almost inadvertently held back a sigh. She couldn't let any observer see how discouraged she felt. She was relieved to have finally found somewhere to rest. She sat at a table alone and leaned back in her chair. Without knowing it, her head cocked slightly to one side and her brows knitted together as she debated whether or not to buy herself something.

[Mirelena]

Mirelena grinned at her warm reception. A familiar face was not something she had anticipated on this leg of her journey. She patted Duathmin absently on the head, then seated herself on the empty chair her friend had indicated. Her small sigh spoke volumes. Good food, good wine, good friends and a good seat by the fire. What more could an elf need to be happy while away from home?
"What brings me here?" she repeated. "I longed for a journey. I have oft been told I am of a restless spirit. The birth of my son tamed me somewhat, but he is old enough to do without me for a short while.
"I am simply visiting the places I have been in the past. It brings me happiness to witness the fruits of the Ranger's labours. I am quite pleased to imagine that I might have had a hand in it," she said.
Elorendil had been smiling at her friend, she knew how strong-willed Mirelena could be. Elladan would have had a fine time, trying to keep his wife at home against her wishes. But she also knew that she was a fine wife and mother, who would willingly sacrifice anything if it would better her family.
"And you?" Mirelena asked, interrupting Elor's thought, "What brings you to these parts?"

((OOC: I would have to say that we're in "Green Hill country." Probably in the fourth age... That's what I'm going with, anyway. :) Look it up at: http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/ to get the whole description.))

[Elorendil]

Elorendil smiled at her friend. She and Mirelena had much in common, including their strong wills. Elladan had learned long ago when to step back and let Mir have her way, as Lord Elrond had learned when to let Elor have hers. And yet, for all her headstrongness, Mirelena would give up everything for the well-being of her family, Elor knew.

"And you?" Mirelena asked, "What brings you to these parts?"

"I just finished a long-distance race on Nimar that ended in Forlond. We came here to take a few days' rest before going home." Elor looked down at the tired panther at her feet. "It was a grueling race," she added, "And we are all tired. I've never seen Nimar so happy to be in a stall. She usually kicks her way out of them as soon as she is put in."

[YayGollum]

Truor probably would have noticed Fuinur's eye twinkle and enjoyed it since the guy looked interesting to begin with. He might have even been taken in by it if it wasn't for the guy's introduction. "High Lord of the Haradrim? Commander of the army? And you don't know why you're here? Wouldn't you have minions to travel for you? I haven't been here long, but this inn doesn't seem to be the best. You should be used to the finest, your High Lordship! Ah, maybe you've got the wanderlust, like me, eh? Great stuff, isn't it? I've never been as far south as Harad, but maybe someday. I am not content with my experience here just yet." When the Dwarf entered, Truor would look even more obviously interested in him than the Harad type. He had always admired and emulated those guys, but this one was a bit unnerving. "You saw that Dwarf, too, Fuinur? You don't have much of them down south, do you? They're great guys, normally. This one looks pretty dangerous, but you have to be to get treated with respect these days, right?"

[eleventy-one]

The man seemed to babble, but Fuinur wasn't sure if that was simply his way or if he was nervous in the presence of a high noble. In contrast, Fuinur spoke calmly and simply. The words he used were not many, but every word that came from his mouth heald great meaning, like a weighty sack of gold.

"Respect, yes I suppose so, but respect comes in many forms, even a fight can be a sign of respect. As for my 'minions', how loosely you swing that word around! Certainly I have many in my service, but I must remind you that I am in the service of others as well."

He took a sip from his drink, looking steadily at the man over the rim of his glass. As Fuinurs arm shifted, lifting the glass upwards to his mouth, the collar of his shirt shifted slightly. It revealed his 3 necklaces, layered and twisted atop one another. The only one that could be seen was the one with a pendant of smooth plack stone and the Eye of Sauron painted on it with great detail and craftmanship. The coincedence of Fuinur's words and the clear view of the jewlery was interesting and the other man was left to wonder over it.

"And what," asked Fuinur, setting his glass down again, the pendant remaining in full sight, "is your name?"

[YayGollum]

And he probably would have wondered about it if he recognized the symbol or cared about the activities of major powers of the world. Instead of wondering, he would continue to calmly drink his mead, glancing over at the Dwarf from time to time. It might have seemed as if Truor was babbling, but he had been around a very talkative giant eagle for a while, and the thing had rubbed off on him a bit. "Oh, I did forget to answer that question, didn't I? It's Truor."

Indicating the raven, who probably recognized Sauron's symbol and was trying to warn the impulsive Beorning ---> "And this is my partner, Shadowflaps. He keeps squawking at me about being more careful about who I talk to, but I wouldn't worry about it. I'm just a wanderer. A student of the land. But the people you meet on the way do make for some good stories to tell the kids back home. That's the Vale of Anduin, for me. You really should visit.
"
So you're travelling because your boss ordered you to? Alright. Must be pretty important to send someone with such a high rank, I bet! Couldn't be too dangerous, though, if you're alone. You don't have any minions following you, do you? I think we'd notice a troop of Southrons heading for an elf-infested inn so far north. Oh, sorry. Not minions. Fellow warriors of your noble cause! Honorable soldiers of mannish progress! I don't know. I really need to visit Harad. Find out how you think down there.

"Hm. This inn couldn't be what you're here for. You're passing through. Unless you're a better tracker than you look, and your prey is here. Couldn't be me. Haven't been south yet. I hope that it's one of these elves. You tell me if you need a guide." Truor wasn't babbling, but he'd know that it would seem that way. He's interested in other cultures and trying to open the guy up with casual speech.

He'd tighten his lip and suddenly look openly surprised once the raven's message finally pierced his helmet of stubborn curiosity. He'd only have the gist that the guy was most probably a very dangerous and highly motivated minion of some nameless and ancient evil that Truor had never heard of or worried about before. Shadowflaps hadn't heard of the guy, but he had enough sense to worry about him.

After sipping the last of his mead and toning down his surprise that, to one who didn't understand a raven's Animalic, probably would have made others think that the guy looked crazy ---> "I shouldn't try to pry into your business too much. How safe is it down south for foreigners?"

[eleventy-one]

"It is good to meet you both." Fuinur admitted, noding breifly at Truor and Shadowflaps in turn. "As you guess, I have naught but myself with me, but I am sure that will be enough. I am looking not for any person, persay." here Fuinur paused, but only momentarily, "I search to find new allies, with the alleged Barrow-wrights in the east Shire. You know of them?"

He left the question hanging, hopeing it would be answered.

"And the south, ah!" here he smiled, "It is quite a place. But, I fear, not very safe without a guide and allies. Allies of me or former allies of Sauron are the safest. I cannot vouge the life of anyone else who enters."


((OOC; sorrymods, by the way, Truor, I have updated my profile (just the history part) to make it more accurate with the 4th age. You may want to take a looksie!))

[Maggot]

Sam Maggot (stable boy) walked in he saw Rosie and the manager Molly Thistwool and many other people including Mirelena, Fuinur and Ragor an old man who had come in wounded and sick looking. After giving hay, sugar lumps and many a good grooming to many horses Sam was weary. He sat down at the bar and ordered an ale from Molly the kindly old lady who ran the inn. After a few pints Sam returned to the horses and replenished some food supply for the greedier ones that included Rosie's. He then returned to where Fuinur was who he had taken quite a shine to he then said "Did I hear rightly that you were talking about Barrow-wights because I have had many an adventure in their parts" Fuinur turned and looked down kindly at the hobbit he then replied.....

[Ghorim]

It took quite a bit to distract the dwarf from his drink. All the sounds of merriment he filtered out, concerning himself only with the sensation of the brew on his tongue and the occasional idle thought that would pass through his mind. The old warrior, however, he could not ignore.

It had not been the sounds that the weary traveller had made that had drawn Helmin's attention. Truly, the fellow could have marched in, made that exact same speech standing right next to Helmin, and the dwarf wouldn't have paid him any mind... were it not for that all too familiar stench that the man carried on him. Helmin's nose detected the blood before his eyes took it in... the odor was fairly fresh.

"Hmm... both his blood and others'," thought Helmin. "Bandits, maybe."

Now his eyes fell to the girl who lay in the man's protecting arms. Helmin's mind reeled at the sight of her, for she reminded him of that tavern lass... the one in the rain who had stirred his callous heart, if for but a moment. Like her, the girl appeared so lost and helpless, even with the aged knight watching over her. Suddenly, Helmin felt that foreign sensation of warm compassion, felt it seeping through the fortifications that he had been constructing around his heart ever since he began working in the muck of society. He tried to shove it off, but it would not quit him. He was just a sucker for a pretty little face, it seemed.

He gave a brief, encouraging smile in the girl's direction, and then all too quickly turned away, for there was confusion in his heart.

"Don't get involved," he thought. "Just drink. Things will work out for her in some fashion, and you'll get drunk enough tonight so that you won't even remember her tomorrow."

It seemed like a reasonable course of action, but still nagging thoughts pestered his mind. In a quick gulp, he downed the rest of his mug and brought it down upon the table heavily.

"Tender! Another for me!"

[eleventy-one]

He then said "Did I hear rightly that you were talking about Barrow-wights because I have had many an adventure in their parts" Fuinur turned and looked down kindly at the hobbit he then replied.....

"I would be highly interested to learn of these Barrow-wrights." His keen eyes seemed to zero in on Sam's with a piercing intensity.

[Darotek]

With an extension of his black-gloved hand, the dark prince pushed the doors to the inn wide open. His leather bootheels clicked as he strode along the wooden floorboards; he kept the black hood draped about his head, the shadow hiding every feature of his handsome face so that only the gleam of his two red eyes were visible through the darkness. With those eyes, he spotted an available seat at the bar, holding up a golden coin between two of his slender fingers.

"Red wine, please," spoke the voice of liquid velvet--a dark tone that seemed to seep through the loudest hubub without difficulty.

[YayGollum]

Truor's eyes widened with surprise, even though, from what Shadowflaps told him about the character of follows of Sauron, he probably shouldn't have been. He had visited the peoples who lived in the area, but had heard enough stories to know not to visit the actual barrows.

Somewhere in there, probably before the hobbit answered, maybe after and shot at Fuinur as a farewell ---> "No, I have not visited the barrow wights. From what I have heard, I would not recommend it. Not very reasonable fellows. Good luck. I am sorry to hear that about the south, though. Taking on a guide would lessen the experience, I think. With a nod of respect, he would then leave the Harad type with the hobbit and head for the Dwarf. Shadowflaps, always suspicious, would keep close to Fuinur and the hobbit, though.

On his way over to the Dwarf, he'd notice and cringe slightly at the entrance of the newest patron. To the Dwarf and later to whoever happens to be behind the bar ---> "Greetings, Skilled One! Yes, you do need another! What have you been doing out there to made you look so tired? Oh, don't mind me. I'm just curious. Most Dwarves that I've seen in this region are headed for the Blue Mountains, or they're relaxing with the light-hearted hobbits. Ah, I'll have another mead, by the way."

[Darotek]

The Dark Elf peered at his surroundings with a sour sickness in his chest. What moronic beings were these that had nothing better to do than engage in alcohol and drunken arguments and laughter...at least he had business here. He turned to a man who had just appraoached the bar ((Truor)).

"You there, have you knowledge of Fuinur's whereabouts?"

[Ghorim]

The dwarf turned from searching for the elusive tender to cast a quizzical glance over his shoulder. Apparently some nuisance wanted to chat. Helmin looked the fellow up and down, the left side of his mouth twitching upward in a reflexive smirk. The dull light of the inn revealed small wrinkles around the dwarf's eyes as they took the stranger in. The fellow was almost short enough to be a Khazad... but no, he wasn't... Helmin could tell as much right away.

The words that the stranger spoke were not so much a cohesive statement to Helmin as they were a series of phrases for his mind to pick apart. The title, "Skilled One," indicated that he might have some knowledge of Helmin's abilities, which wouldn't have surprised the dwarf overly much.

"And he's telling me that I need another drink!" thought Helmin. "What's behind that?"

Perhaps he had spent too much time among criminals... he was always looking for darker motives beneath even the most innocent of words. Tired... was he really tired? Aye, perhaps Helmin was a bit more fatigued than he had realized. One thing was for certain: he wasn't up to dealing with this odd stranger and his intrusive questions. Helmin's first, appropriately dwarvish instinct was to tell the patron to bugger off and mind his own business. Of course, Helmin had tried this approach with other nosy blokes in the past, and it seemed to the dwarf that harsh replies from him only seemed to encourage more interrogation. So, if Helmin wanted this fellow to shut up and leave him be, a vague, euphemistic description of his business would be the preferable course of action.

"I've been cleaning the scum from city gutters," he said to the fellow with a distant and weary tone.

In truth, it was an apt description of his line of work... it was how Helmin often rationalized the more grisly business that he engaged in. These petty criminals, small-time burglars and weaselly merchants... no one needed them, no one wanted them, as they wandered the lands and spread their diseased ways as they went. Helmin did these villages a service by removing them from the streets. This logic helped him to take his repose at night without always having to resort to ale as a sleep aid.

"I'm headed to the North... apparently the streets up in Arnor need a good sweeping."

His minute grin widened ever so slightly at these words, and he turned away from the armored patron, to find that his mug had been refilled without his noticing.

"Well... how about that..."

[YayGollum]

Never having been one to trust easily, especially when some arrogant-looking elf was asking questions, Truor just shrugged his shoulders at Darotek and turned back to his refilled mead. "Never heard of the guy. Go hide in a tree." Sure, there were other elves in the building, but at least none of them had decided to waste his time.

Ranting to himself, probably not even caring if the elf is still around ---> "Why don't the elves just stay in their forests? I thought that they were well-trained by now! This one's asking me to help him! Argh!" After a bit more mutterings, he registered that the Dwarf had said something to him, and since he was mad about the elf, he'd be stuck ranting about it. He'd see that the guy didn't really want to talk, but, especially after hearing the elf, he'd really want some honest Dwarf conversation.

Said a bit more gruffly than he would have liked to the Dwarf ---> "Cleaning the scum out, eh? I know what you mean. They think they're doing us a favor by visiting? Argh! Not me! I'd rather live in an Orc's tunnels!"

[Mirelena]

Mirelena laughed (and posted waaaay belatedly) while patting her friend's knee affectionately. She knew the temperment of Nimar. It must have been a rigorous race, indeed, to make her grateful to be in a stall!

The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence. Soon Mirelena stood and walked to the counter. She seated herself until a young girl finished what she was doing. Kegs, casks and bottles of all shapes and sizes were arranged neatly in a cool room off from the main kitchen. She was drawing a mug of frothy beer for a customer waiting on another stool.

Mirelena observed the company that had gathered this evening. A hobbit lad who still had a few straws sticking in his hair, had come in looking for a drink. A dwarf... Mirelena resisted the urge to sniff disdainfully... was seated a few stools down. She determined that she would have a civil conversation with him before the evening was out. Several men and elves had come in and were mostly keeping to themselves. A small child was seated in a chair a few feet off. Mirelena cocked her head. It was a rarity to see children so far away from a village. A weatherstained man knelt near her, talking softly.

The elven lady was intrigued, but her wonderings were interrupted by the approach of a dark elf who had a regal look about him. She watched him hand the lad behind the bar a gold coin for a goblet of wine. Elves have similar tastes, she thought. She too handed the lad some money and asked for a goblet of wine. The newcomer glanced at her, then scoffed and addressed the man seated on the other side of him.

Mirelena scowled in turn, the shrugged it off. When she heard the rantings of the man beside him, her scowl returned in earnest. She had opened her mouth to snap a reply, but held her tongue. No reason to involve oneself in a conversation that was not one's own. She recieved her goblet gladly, then strode gracefully back to her friend, still seated beside the fire.

"Mellon-nin," she started, "Would you be offended if I retired for the evening? I am tired and would imagine that you are as well. I was hoping for some music this evening, but I am afraid that my fingers would trip and stumble. A fine testimony that would be to the skill of the elves!" she laughed.

[Darotek]

"Never heard of the guy. Go hide in a tree."

Darotek laughed softly and a smile formed on his lips that was hidden by the dark hood. With one of his fingers he brushed the ruby-red sword that lay suspended by its hilt. And what a lovely sword it was; its black handle brought out the horrible resemblence which the blade bore to fresh blood.
He debated lowering his hood, finally deciding not to and settling for the next best thing.

The Dark Elf placed an icy hand on Truor's shoulder, squeezing it with the intensity that could easily turn a twig into powder.
"Think carefully before speaking to strangers that way, friend," he whispered.

[YayGollum]

It has been a while before Truor has had an encounter with an elf like this! He would have much righteous fury bottled up by this time. From the terrifying description, Truor's shoulder would be in a lot of pain (I'm guessing that the guy quickly got around the vambrace before Truor could react :rolleyes: ), which would easily make him reel away, growling loudly. He'd be trying to say something like, ---> "Argh! Don't touch me, murderer! You call me foolish for telling you to back off, then you do this? Noone can say you don't deserve this!" but it might be a bit hard to understand as his face would be turning into a bear's, his hands would be growing giant claws, and other bear things like that.

[Darotek]

((oh, haha sorry about that! I forgot...:p btw good post!))

Although fright now welled up inside of him like a balloon in his chest, Darotek kept his eyes locked on that of Truor. A bear... well, can't say this wasn't out of left field. The Dark Elf did let go of Truor's shoulder (partly because at his five foot nine height, he could not reach), but did not yet draw his sword.
~Alright~ thought Darotek. ~Let's see what he can do.~

[eleventy-one]

Fuinur turned sharply at the rather large disturbance. Bar brawls were common enough, Fuinur knew, so he was not surprised. Instead, he watched the scene unfold with calm experiance. He recognized the elf, vaguely. He remembered carrying off a deal with him long ago in the past. Still, Darotek was hardly someone Fuinur would greet warmly. There were precious few he would do that to.

[YayGollum]

Truor probably would have tried to maul the elf, but his growls had alerted his friends into stepping in. Shadowflaps left his spot near Fuinur and tossed all kinds of warnings at the half-transformed Beorning as fast as he could, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop him from fighting. His horse (Anthrax) probably wouldn't even be able to get out of the stable to help, but oh well. He'd wish that he could.

Anyways, sorry to the people who own the bar (I'm sure that, when he calms down, Truor would help with this), but the giant eagle Knockondor crashed through the entrance, quickly spotted his friend, and hopped over to deposit himself between the two opposing personalities, probably wrecking tables along the way.

To everyone, but ending up sniffing at the Dark elf ---> "What are you flightless bullies doing in here? Truor, stop growling! Look at how fuzzy you are! Heh. I never noticed that before. Oh. sorry. Hm. Where's the elf? That's what always gets you mad, right? Is it this one?" Knockondor has trouble telling not bird type things apart. :rolleyes: Truor stomped away from the interfering bird, maybe relaxing a bit of his fuzziness away. He'd still be pretty mad, but he'd know better than to mess with the giant eagle too much.

[Ghorim]

"Never heard of the guy. Go hide in a tree."

The gloom of Helmin's tired face was suddenly dispelled by this remark, and an amused smirk curled upward beneath the dwarf's beard. Well, well! Perhaps this fellow wasn't so bad after all. Helmin strongly believed that Elves sorely needed to get knocked off of their golden perches every now and again, so as to keep their massive egos in check.

"Why don't the Elves just stay in their forests? I thought that they were well-trained by now! This one's asking me to help him! Argh!"

Helmin chuckled, a dry and raspy sound. No, no... for all their supposed cultivation and wisdom, the Elves that Helmin had encountered were far more reminiscent of spoiled youths than sage elders.

"Must be that only the immature ones wander out into the world," thought Helmin. "I wonder if the same could be said of the Khazad..."

His grin grew slightly as he sat with his back to the others. Aye, when he first set out from the Iron Hills, he was nothing but a ball of youthful pride and impetuousness. The above-ground world had set to work on him immediately, however... it molded him into something of practical use. Helmin could only be thankful that it had not destroyed him, instead.

"Cleaning the scum out, eh? I know what you mean. They think they're doing us a favor by visiting? Argh! Not me! I'd rather live in an Orc's tunnels!"

Apparently the fellow had misinterpreted his words. Helmin said nothing to correct him, fully content to continue ignoring the bloke. But then the situation suddenly took an unexpected turn.

"Think carefully before speaking to strangers that way, friend."

The Elf's threat hung in the air, unspoken, but easy enough to grasp, even for a casual listener like Helmin. He had heard that tone of voice before, in bars much like this one. Violence... hinted at, then realized in a sudden flash of a blade. So, understandably, the dwarf tensed up somewhat. He glanced over his shoulder at the Elf. Aye... he was a young one, probably full enough of himself to try anything.

"It's the kids who are the real threats to peace and security," thought Helmin. "Vets know better than to stir up trouble over a few choice words. But little boys are so quick to draw their toys out and test their luck..."

The dwarf spun about on his stool, and was about to cast his lot with the armored fellow, when he noted that something was amiss. The fellow seemed to be speaking, but the words came out harsh and distorted, the syllables torn to shreds by abnormal growls and gurgles. The man's body seemed to be pulsating and shifting in entirely unnatural ways. Helmin's normally unreadable visage twisted into a hybrid expression of concern, confusion and surprise. His right hand shifted to one of the throwing axes on his belt, just as a precaution.

Of course, when the giant bird burst through the front entrance, Helmin knew better than to intervene at all. The dwarf could not possibly feel any more bewildered by these bizarre events, so he resolved to resume drinking his ale, and simply enjoy the show, which he immediately proceeded to do.

[Darotek]

Where's the elf? That's what always gets you mad, right? Is it this one?"

Darotek looked at the eagle with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. A small smile played upon his goateed lips. Yet it was not dark like the many he had shown before. This was a sincere grin.
~A talking bird, fascinating. I wonder...I wonder how intelligent it is?~
He let go of the sword's hilt and took a sip of his red wine. It reminded him of blood, and that was why he chose it over any drink in any circumstance. The taste was rich and full, it danced on his tongue before finally sliding down his throat. Over the rim of the glass, Darotek peered at Truor and wondered which one of these men was Fuinur...

[YayGollum]

The elf's proportionally (to most people's, I guess) calm reaction did not help Truor. With much growling, grunting, and glaring at the elf, he concentrated his human skin back into place. Only after the elf took his paw off of his sword, to Knockondor ---> "Argh! Look at what you did to the door, Knockondor! There is no room for you in here. I wasn't calling you, so go rest outside. I can take care of myself. Yes, that is the reckless elf that made me mad. Don't worry about it. He knows better now, I'm sure. Argh."

He stomped over to the eagle to give him a reassuring pat, then headed back for his seat, very focused on ignoring both of them (Knockondor and Darotek) for the rest of his stay.

Knockondor ignored Truor's suggestion to leave and tried his best to puff his chest out and look intimidating as soon as the troublesome elf was identified. "So it was you! I thought so! I felt your impetuous aura from miles away, but it seemed so beneath me that I thought we wouldn't have to worry! A bit of friendly advice for you: this Beorning creature is my ally. Do not threaten him. We are on a noble quest at the moment!"

He would then look comically forgetful for a moment, wonder what lie he should tell, and hop over to Truor to whisper something like ---> "Give me a good noble quest for us to be on!" He be so focused on the problem that he's probably forgotten that there are plenty of other people around him, probably very inconvenienced by his entrance.

[Darotek]

"Yes, that is the reckless elf that made me mad. Don't worry about it. He knows better now, I'm sure."

"Oh, yes indeed," spoke Darotek, keeping the anger in his voice down to a subtlety. "I know now the wrath of your loyal pet should I have a little disagreement with you. Believe me," he bore his white teeth in a smile that would put the most fearsome orcs on the run. "I will be more careful next time."

((btw I know Darotek is being a bit of a beotch now, but I promise that if someone either a) beats him in a fight or b) is also semi-evil, he will lighten up.))

[YayGollum]

Truor (since he was trying his best to ignore both of them) just sat and seethed while gulping at his mead. Knockondor jumped with surprise, though, (since he had forgotten that most existed anymore) when Darotek spoke again. He'd turn back around, looking very indignant, but he'd probably step back once he noticed the guy's scary expression. "Who's a pet? He's not mine. That is a strange idea thought up by one of you poor flightless people, not us! Or did you mean me? Why do you look like that? Stop it. Making me nervous, little guy!"

After looking around at the other patrons and feeling the general vibe of the place. "Why are you here, anyway? I didn't see what my little buddy here did to upset you, but yes, you should be careful. I happen to be the best warrior to ever come out of the eyries of the Misty Mountains!" With another disconcerted look at the elf, he'd hop back over to Truor again, who would start digging his claws into the bar with frustration at the casual silliness and detached curiosity of his old friend. "What did you do to that poor little elf? He looks kind of angry!"

Truor, gritting his teeth, wishing that he hadn't said even less to the elf in the first place ---> "Alright, Knockondor. The elf came up to talk to me, I tried to send him away without being too rude, and he tried to break my shoulder. Okay? You can go now. I haven't killed an elf yet." Though he would be thinking about it. :rolleyes:

Out Of Character: No, he's not too bad. He has more flavor than some characters I have seen. Unless this is all that there is to him, then no, there is nothing cool about him. sorry about that. :rolleyes: I should bring in one of my more evil types to see if your character does have any depth.

[Elorendil]

Elorendil watched as her friend rose and made her way over to the bar. She returned a moment later with a goblet in hand. "Mellon-nin," the elf asked, "Would you be offended if I retired for the evening? I am tired and would imagine that you are as well. I was hoping for some music this evening, but I am afraid that my fingers would trip and stumble. A fine testimony that would be to the skill of the elves!"

Elorendil joined Mirelena in her laughter. "Nay, my friend, I will not be offended. I may want for your company but I shall not take offense. Perhaps I will find someone else to talk with."

[AraCelebEarwen]

stumbling through the wet, stormy forest, a dark figure is relieved to see what looked like a well used path. Moving to the edge of the trees she tries to see the road but can't get her eyes to focus well enough.

The dark cape and ridding clothes that she had hoped would help her blend into the background were not only ripped and threadbare but covered in mud and dripping from the rain.

She could remember a time when the coming of rain was a gift and a blessing, and tried to recall how it felt to simply enjoy the smell and sound of a spring shower.

Having decided to follow the path, she slowly heads in what she hopes is the right direction. Trying to find strength or even hope, she keeps one cold hand clasped around her necklace and the other she uses to support herself on nearby trees.

After traveling for several miles, she sees lights. A house? An Inn? Her head was throbbing worse then it had since that robber had hit her and left her for dead. With her last bit of strength she takes a few staggering steppes toward the door when her weariness and injuries take over and she falls unconscious near one of the bushes on the edge of the hill.

[Orophin]

Two men came riding up to the inn and edged their horses around and headed for the stables. As they rode up to them, they dismounted and lead the horses in stalls. After providing the horses with food a water, they set out to the inn. Near the front steps, they saw a unconscious woman. They sighed a bit and with a glance at each other, one grabbed her feet and the other grabbed her wrist and proceded up onto the porch of the inn.

"Orophin, open the door." said the man that had picked up her feet. Orophin approached and opened the door then wen back and proceded to help carry the unconscious woman into the inn. Once inside, they sat her up in one of the chairs.

"Artea, i'm going to retire for the night. " Orophin told the man in the bandana before going to the bar and paying for a room, and proceding upstairs.

Artea on the otherhand, found an empty seat at an empty table and removed a big case from his back and opened it. It contained a lute. He pulled it out and began to play it.

[Slinker]

A tall man with light brown hair and a a flowing blue cape walked in and sat down near one of the corners, passing an unconcious woman he glanced at in curiosity. He put his arms on the table and tilted his head down onto them and sighed. He brought his head up and ordered a large ale. Looking around, he noted a man playing a lute. He tuned in his hearing and sat back to listen.

[Darotek]

Unless this is all that there is to him, then no, there is nothing cool about him.
((Oh, there is much more to him, don't fret. Anyway, I only bring it up because a lot of people have PMed me about how rude I am being when I'm all, Hello? Ever heard of an antagonist? Life ain't all rainbows and butterflies...and yeah, evil characters? Bring 'em on! :)))

Darotek could tell the confrontation was at a momentary hiatus((*sp)). He took a long draft from his cup and wondered how long he would have to wait for one of two things: Fuinur or a lonely woman. He peered about. A few lookers; nothing compared with the maids he had back home, but he saw some that would do. One in particular was wearing a flowing green dress and had crimson curls down to her waist. Alright...moment of truth...Darotek waited for her to turn sideways s he might get a glance at her ears. Pointed. Good.
He stood up from his barstool and appraoched the elven lady. She faced him and a look of disgust filled her face once their eyes met.
"Get away, Dark one!" She cried, distancing herself from him. Darotek gave her a 'who, me?' expression that any woman of his own kind would have found adorable. Yet she thought nothing of the sort. He was of evil descent, and therefore could not be befriended.
The prince took her shoulders in his arms and pressed his face against hers. her eyes went wide and her hands were balled into fists...yet for only a moment. Soon her body relaxed and the two figures seemed to melt together. Once he let her go, she went limp and fell into a chair behind her.

[AraCelebEarwen]

*Stirring slightly, Ara tries to remember what had happened. Sitting up she looks around the room. What happened to that poor Elf she had only to guess from the dark man standing over her. Was this a safe place?

Some faces looked her way in curiosity, then went back to drinking or talking.

Pushing herself out of the chair, she walks cautiously to the bar and asks for a glass of milk.*

[Ghorim]

"Madness!" chuckled Helmin, as the drinks tallied up and their effects began to infiltrate his mind unnoticed. He spun about in his stool, convinced that things in the establishment had reached the point where he need only concern himself with his beverage. The dwarf cast aside the remnants of concern that he might have still clung to... the business of these other types was now none of his. When the world about him became this mad, the only solution for Helmin was to bury his nose in a good drink and forget everything. All those pretty faces... he'd chop them to pieces if it paid well enough, aye? Helmin snorted amusedly and took a long pull on his latest drink. No longer did he bother to savor the taste. The liquid had become simply a means to an end.

He chortled at the order for milk that came from his right.

"And while you're fixing her that, why don't ya get me a real drink, eh?"

Helmin pounded on the bartop and laughed mightily, pushing his empty mug toward the tender.

[Morohtar]

Deren sighed deeply as the last of the rum burned it's path down his throat. He waited till the last of the sensation had subsided, then closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the Inn. The typical noises were heard; laughing, glasses ringing from toasts, singing, stomping, belches, flatulence; yep, it was all there.

But one noise was not so familiar in such places, and yet Deren heard it; a low growl, feline and rather perturbed in it's tone. He turned in the direction of the sounds and saw a small red shape approaching a much larger black shape, which seemed to be the one growling. His small companion seemed to have a soon-to-be unhealthy interest in the other animal in the bar (besides the large, talking eagle) and Deren deemed it necessary to intervene. With swift movements he made his way towards the fox, still creeping slowly towards the large teeth and claws residing beside one of the chairs. He leaned over to pick up the small bundle of fur, still slightly damp from the rain, hoping that the owner of the panther wouldn't notice the small disturbance that had taken place. Alas, she did, an amused smile appearing on her face.

"You must forgive my companion," Deren said after a quick laugh, "he has developed quite the curiosity about new things, especially ones that could easily dispatch him, it would seem. Though where are my manners; my name is Deren, son of Theren, and I am at your service." He bowed low and smiled.

[AraCelebEarwen]

He chortled at the order for milk that came from his right.

"And while you're fixing her that, why don't ya get me a real drink, eh?"


Did I say it was for me...? Her voice twanged with sarcasm.

*Reaching into her ridding boot, she pulls out a small knife. Laying it on the bar you could see that it was finely crafted and had jewles on the hilt.*

Will this be enough to trade for a few coins? I seem to have lost mine. And if you would be so kind, I would like some white wine please.

*Cup in hand, Ara reaches for a clean dish, emptying the fresh milk into the bowl she walks over to the panther that had been watching her and places it at it's feet. After stroking the cat's massive head she goes back to get her wine.*

[YayGollum]

Truor finished up the last bit of his mead, groaned, then nodded a bit at Knockondor, and headed for his room, where things were quieter. Knockondor probably hadn't been paying much attention and began to hop around the room, poking his head into conversations, avoiding the Darotek elf, edging closer to the door, hoping that he wouldn't break anything on his way out.

Before he could leave, though, a rumbling startled him to the back of the room. After a while of listening to that, a wall of gray skin and armour appeared in the doorway. A massive troll leaned his head down in a sad attempt to get through, but he quickly gave it up and sat out front to stare intelligently inside.

The troll would grunt impatiently as a thick cloud of black smoke trailed its way to a fireplace. Once all of it was inside, it collected into a vague yet hulking (maybe ten feet tall, maybe a little less, pathetic for a balrog) humanoid form. Long steel claws and a very maniacal looking face seemed to materialize out of the smoke. No fire anywhere, but he wouldn't look like that could stop him from intimidating. He'd stare into the fire for a while, then turn to whoever decides to post next with a creepily crazed look and an evil grin.

[Elendae]

*A lone figure slips past the troll and into the Inn, unseen by most except for those of the keener sense. After casting an expirienced eye around the room, he moves quietly over to a vacant table and sits down.*

[Darotek]

*Stirring slightly, Ara tries to remember what had happened. Sitting up she looks around the room. What happened to that poor Elf she had only to guess from the dark man standing over her. Was this a safe place?

Darotek watched this new stranger with a keener intereste than that which he had expressed at the talking eagle. This person had a certain familiar air about him that the Dark Prince could relate to. He wondered, turning away from the girl, her energy now pulsing through his body like a refreshing sleep, if he had seen the stranger before...he would wait and see what happened.

[Elorendil]

Elorendil smiled at the man and his damp companion. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Deren. I am Elorendil, though most of my friends call me Elor. This," she said, indicating the enormous cat at her feet, whose yellow-green eyes were still fixed upon the little fox, "Is Dúathmin."

As Elor said her name, a low growl eminated from the panther's throat. Min stared fixedly at the little fox and licked her lips. She felt the weight of the soft, slender hand of her mistress upon her sinewy shoulder and heard the command, "Havo dad." With a whuff of disappointment and one last look at the tasty looking morsel, Min sat down obediently at her mistress' feet. Just then, a stranger appeared from nowhere and placed a bowl of milk before her. Her attention diverted from the wet fluffball of red fur, she lapped the warm, frothy stuff up eagerly.

Elor turned her attention back to the man before her. "Please, m'lord, have a seat," she said with an inviting smile.

[AraCelebEarwen]

*Getting back to the bar, Ara picks up the glass of wine. After swirling the clear liquid around she takes a sip and lets the flavor and texture fill her senses.

There was a tense feeling in the air, try as she might she could not rid herself of the feeling of being watched. It was in her nature to be edgy around strangers, but knowing that it would be their mistake to do the wrong thing she forced her nerves to relax.*

[Slinker]

Daronir woke up and realized the man had stopped playing the musical instrument, so he stood and walked to the bar.

"I'll have anything strong enough to make me go back to sleep."

The bartender complied and handed him some sort of drink in a tall glass. Daronir chugged it and headed back to his chair, but on the way their fell in an unconcious heap on the floor, knocking over a few chairs and a table. He'd never had more than a casual drink, and this had certainly put him back to sleep. But a bit too soon.

[Elendae]

After shaking his head at the poor man, the Dark stranger walks over and seemingly without effort, picks him up and sets the man back into the chair he had departed from. After this had been done, the Dark stranger returned to his seat in silence.

[AraCelebEarwen]

*Hearing that the music had indeed silenced, the elf reaches into the folds of her riding clothes and brings out a small instrument.

Looking around for a place to sit, she spots a large barrel standing off in the corner and easily made herself comfortable on the wide smooth lid. Closing her eyes and bringing the pipe to her lips she started to play.

A long, quiet tune could be heard floating through the air, as she played the music changed and grew slightly louder tell it could be heard clearly by all lisening.*

[eleventy-one]

Fuinur sat back and watched the Inn bustle with those coming and going. So many different lives. So many different stories all happening at once. A took a few sips of his drink, but not enought to make him intoxicated, just to put him on the verge. He found his senses, already greatly sharpened by time and warfare, were heightened that way. He smiled as one man's little red fox curiously but harmlessly aproach another women's balck panther, unaware of it's danger. Then, a slender elf thoughtfully placed a bowl of milk infront of the panther, saveing the fox from an unfortunate fate. Fuinur couldn't help but let his yes twinkle and a small smile flicker across his face. Long, soft, borwn hair fell down the girl's back. She seemed young, but old at the same time. Innocent and playful like a child and wary only from life itself. It seemed to him that she was refreshing, someone he would like to meet, someone very unlike anyone in Harad. Someone simple, yet vastly interesting. He watched her walk back to her table with superb grace and eloquence. Then, she began to play a lilting tune that Fuinur fell in love with immediately. It grew louder as she became more confident and felt safer.

Finally, Fuinur could not resist any longer. Curiosity as well as admiration, and perhaps a bit of selfless desire overtook him. He took his drink with him, if only as a mere conversation starter. As he walked towards her, she seemed to become more beautiful. For the first time in his life, Fuinur wondered if he would be rejected because of his beliefes and and lifestyle. He was nervous. For once, he cared. Swiftly, as he aproced her he pushed his 3 necklaces under his tunic. The cloth barely covered them and he hoped they would stay that way, but it was clear that they probably would not. Any shift of his arms or shoulders could bring them into clear view. Finally he reached her,

"I could not help but over-see your act of kindness, and your music is beautiful. Could I sit with you for a while?" His turquoise eyes twinkled with sincerity and friendlyness and perhaps a trace of longing. For although Fuinur had many wives, there was not a single one whom he loved or who loved him. "My name is--" here he paused for a moment, wondering what to give away. Normally he would not be ashamed of his identity, but now it seemed he was, "Fuinur." he finished simply, and tucked a strand of chocolatey-aburn hair behind his ear.

[AraCelebEarwen]

*Having felt the man coming over she had let the music fade, and watched his face as he tried to talk to her. For a mortal he was rather charming, almost childlike in his halting speech.*

"nad uin morgul gerich na lin fea.

You may listen if you wish, AdanHedinDuath."

*She smiled at her own play with words wondering if anyone else knew what was said, and went back to playing*

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**I'll give you a clue, look for one of my threads... but if you get (or are) stumped, I might help.** ;) :D

[Slinker]

Daronir slowly came to. "Guuuurgle," is all he managed to get out. He sat up from his slumped position and looked around at a number of people staring at him. He was covered in alcohol from when he knocked over the tables. "Errrrrr... Sorr. Sorry. Mess. I'll clean up." With that he shakily got to his feet and went to the front to get something to clean up with. He got down to work and when he was finished got up and took the stuff back.

By now he was fully sober and walking steadily. So he stepped carefully past the panther and towards the man with the fox. "Hello there. I couldn't help but overhear your father's name. It was the name of my half-uncle. That is, my father's half brother. My father's name is Tharondir. I don't suppose that we are actually cousins somehow, as both our names are also fairly similar?

[Morohtar]

"Please, m'lord, have a seat," Elorendil said. Deren smiled and replied; "Alas, no lord am I, nor have I any wish to be one. Those who follow me are but travellers on the same path." He took his seat again, looking at his small companion. "Or, in some cases, they just want food."

"And what of yourself? You have the voice and beauty of a princess; I'd have thought your name Luthien or Arwen." He smiled once more and reached for his glass, finding it lighter than expected, then remembering that he had finished it already. He would have to take a moment to fill it again, once the initial chit-chat was over.

[Elorendil]

"And what of yourself?" Deren asked. "You have the voice and beauty of a princess; I'd have thought your name Luthien or Arwen."

Elorendil laughed at this. "Nay, good sir, I am no more a princess than you are a lord, though I am flattered you would think me so. I am but a simple elf of unknown lineage. I have come here in want of rest and companionship after many days of hard travel. It seems that neither shall be lacking, tonight," she said, eyes on following the dancers who had taken up the floor to the piping of an elf maiden. She resisted the urge to find her kaiarsa and add the resonant timbre of her strings to the lilting dance tune; there would be time enough for that later. Right now, the oppurtunity for the companionship and camraderie she had been hoping for stood before her. "Would you care for another drink?" she asked, beckoning to a red-headed server girl.

As she skipped over to take their order, a glimmer of recognition lit up the pint-size girl's face. "Elor!" she exclaimed, dashing forward to throw her arms around the elf maiden's neck. "You've come back! It's been so long since we saw you, last." Elor returned the affectionate embrace. "Yes, Anna, I am here. It has been too long, my young friend Just look at you! You must have grown three inches since I last saw you! And how is that mare of yours? Is she ready for the race?"
The girl drew herself up proudly at the mention of her feisty little pony. "She's more than ready, m'lady. I've been riding her five miles every morning." Elorendil smiled at her enthusiasm. "And I'm sure you'll do well, as long as you remember to watch for the start signal and don't get caught behind the pack. But the race isn't until next week and we will have plenty of time to finish getting you two ready. In mean time, will you please bring us more drinks? You may go visit Nimar afterwards, if you like." The little girl brightened further at the mention of a visit to Elor's magnificent mare. She grabbed their cups and dashed to the bar to fill them.

A moment later she came scurrying back, a glass full-to-over-flowing in each hand, and nearly tripped over Dúathmin in her excitement. She set them down in front of Elor a little more carefully, then turned and scampered away. She stopped suddenly and turned back to the elf. "May I give her a carrot?" she asked eagerly. Elor smiled kindly and nodded. With one final grin at her friend, Anna dashed behind the bar to collect the tasty treat for her equine friend. Elorendil laughed and shook her head as the girl vanished out the door. "She's such a good little girl," she said, half to herself.

Bringing her attention back to Deren, she slid his mug back over to him. "That is an unusual companion you have, there," she said, indicating the fox perched upon his arm. "How did you two come together?"

[eleventy-one]

Fuinur did not understand most of her speech. He assumed it was elvish, which had had little to no contact with in all his life. Those elves that had contact with him usually spoke his own laguage. He found the words both refreshing and frusterating and wondered if the common words after them were a translation or a additive. What did it mean, what she had called him, "AdanHedinDuath"?

Fuinur sat down with his drink and listened to the music for a while. The tune was pretty and the maiden was a master of her craft. Some members of the Inn got up to dance, but slowly the music began to fade and people to sit down again, rosie-cheeked and smiling. When the girl had stopped, Fuinur tried again.

"What is your name, lady?"

[AraCelebEarwen]

"What is your name, lady?"

"My name Is AraCelebEarwen, *she smiled slightly* but you may call me Ara if you wish."

*Haveing played for so long she looked around to see if there was anything to quench her thirst, then looked back to the man who was still trying to talk to her.*

"As for that name, it means 'man in the darkness'." For the rest... perhaps I will tell you if you would get me something to drink." She said in an almost mischievous voice.

[Elendae]

*After watching the Haradrim man try to talk with the elven maiden, the Dark stranger draws a pen and with elegant writing, jots a note down and then rolls it to about the size of a leaf stem. He places the note into his cloak and whispers a command unheard by everyone except for one pair of small ears. After the command was given, a small, quick shadow darted from underneath the Dark man's table, raced over to where the dark elf was resting, and deposited the note. After his task was accomplished, the silent shadow scurried back to his master - with a small prize in his possesion.*

[eleventy-one]

Fuinur smiled broadly and stood up. He brough Ara's glass to the bartender and asked for a refill. The bartender did so gladly. Fuinur set the glass in front of the maiden and sat down. He raised his eyebrows and titled his head at her, as if saying silently 'you promised'.

[AraCelebEarwen]

*She took a sip of her drink and thought back to what she had said.*

"'nad uin morgul gerich na lin fea'. It would be to your tongue,..."

*She stopped to think and enjoy the cool drink for a moment. She could tell he was slightly impatient because he shifted in his seat and kept his eyes on her face, eager yet worried to here what she would say. Finally she spoke in a calm, almost hollow voice.*

"It means, 'something from the black arts you have in your spirit'.

I have seen the charm you ware about your neck, and can feel the darkness in you even now. Did you think I could not? My people must truly be strangers to you."

[eleventy-one]

Fuinur closed his eyes, dimming their turqiouse brilliance for a few moments, he titled his head down and to the side as if avoiding some site. A strand of choclate-brown and natural-red-streaked hair fell across his cheek as he sighed. His words started without him opening his eyes,

"I do not know why I doubted you, and neither do I know why I chose to hide part of myself." He opened his eyes and looked back up at her, turmoil and confusion showing in them clearly. "There was," he paused and corrected himself, "is something about you--" he broke off once again. For the first time his confident speech had failed him as had his bold opinions and shamless pride and admittance to who he was. Instead, he pulled out the 3 of his necklaces, the Eye of Sauron painted beautifully on a black stone, the symbol of the Haradrim etched on a piece of sandstone, and the orb in which a blue bead or dot was supended invisably that morphed through every shade of blue.

"These are what you felt. I cannot say for sure that there are other ways of looking at me than through my allegences, for all too many find that it is the only that they can, or will, see. There is more to me than these, but I do not know if you can, or will, see it." His eyes gazed steadily into hers, he was begining to get some of his fluid speech back, "I value highly the quality of an open mind and open eyes as well as the understanding and wit to see from many angles." He leaned over farther so Ara could get a better look at the jewlery, "At the same time, I cannot tell you that these are not a part of me, or have some flip side to them. Like everything else in my life, I am part of them 100%."

He waited, almost holding his breath, for her reaction.

[AraCelebEarwen]

*She thought over what he was saying, remembering that she also had a secret she could only watch his face as he spoke. She placed a hand on where her own necklace hung and waited tell he seamed to be done.*

"I will try to understand you, but it is not in me to accept evil. Nor can I let hope and friendship lie at risk of misuse."

*She stands up and momentarily places a finger lightly on the symbol of the eye.*

"I hope that one day you will think to let go of that false hope, for it will only bring ruin upon the ones who carry it.

I will not say I hate you for I do not, but if that be your life then I can not be part of it. Only a friend to give hope I shall be to you."

*The corner of her mouth curved up into a small, smile.*

"And you may yet find, as I have, that nothing is truly "100%", there is always at least a small question deep in ones heart."

[Rosalee LuAnn]

Rosie jerked up, blinking blearily, disoriented. Where was she? Who were these people? What had happened...? Gradually the pieces fell into place as her memories of the recent past that had been forgotten in sleep returned, one by one. She remembered where she was, and her tensed muscles relaxed. I didn't plan on falling asleep at the table, she thought to herself, I suppose I really did push myself a bit too hard to get here.

Her face felt odd, she rubbed her cheek with her hand and found that, printed on her cheek were the ridges and contours of wrinkled fabric--she had fallen asleep with her arm as a pillow, and her sleeve had moulded the flesh of her cheek to it's shape. She masaged the cheek as she yawned, then stretched, looking around, wondering how long she had slept, pushing back strands of hair that had worked their way out of her braid out of her face. She didn't feel as tired as she had before, at least, and she found that she could keep her eyes open easily, something she had struggled with before she had fallen asleep, so she had probably been sleeping long enough to have at least part of her wakefulness restored. She decided that, since she wasn't as tired as she had been, to walk around a bit, perhaps meet a few people, then get a room. But before she stood, almost without conciously thinking about it, she mentally checked all her daggers, feeling for some of them, merely checking some off the tally in her mind. This took barely a second or two, then she stood, stretching again.

(I have to go so I can't continue, somebody notice her if you want to ;))

[Slinker]

Daronir, noticing he was being ignored for the sake of a girl, which he completely understood, turned to see another. Her face had an odd look to it... almost... cloth-like. He figured she had fallen asleep and the cloth had imprinted her face. She seemed to be walking towards him, so he decided to strike up a conversation and possibly find out any information about his sister or any... warg... owners? He didn't know what to call them exactly.

"Hello. My name's Daronir, what's yours?" he said with a sweet smile. Truthfully, he hadn't been in another human presence for over a month, a girl's... well... more like three! It was nice to see some feminine beauty that also commanded a bit of respect... well, except for the cloth marks...

[Mirelena]

Whistling gaily in spite of the dreary weather, Cairbrent practically skipped up the steps to the "Gray Hill Inn." A slight weight at his side was accomanied with an occassional jingle. Even though it was raining and the town a few miles down the road was small, there had been enough people to theive-er, pickpocket-er, Borrow! from, that he was confident to soon find a hot meal. His stomach growled and he patted it comfortingly.
"Don't worry, Cair, my old fellow," he said to himself as he reached for the door, "Soon, you shall be seated in a comfortable Inn and making merry with the lads and lasses."
As he spoke, he opened the door, doffed his thin, soaked cloak and made his way to the bar at the other end of the room. He winked at the young lass serving as tender for the moment and she blushed. Cair offered her a dashing grin as she came shyly up to see what he wanted. He ordered a drink a bowl of stew and some dark bread to be brought out to him.
When he had winked at her one last time, he turned to survey the room. He shared the bar with several men and the room seemed to be dominated by male company. So much for thinking I'd find some female company... Cair thought glumly. Oh, well. Maybe it'll liven up later.
With that, he slung his backpack off his shoulder and quickly produced a dark colored reed. It shone in the firelight, indicating its use and loved status. Bringing it to his lips, Cair blew lightly and ran a few scales to warm the flute up.
Soon he was piping merrily to himself. He hoped that he might encourage a few of those gathered to join in. Cair also hoped that the music might rouse some of the ladies who must have retired early. There was little that Cair enjoyed as much as a dance... or two...

[AraCelebEarwen]

*After having watched the man's blank face start to gain back some of it's color, she looks around the room then at what she is dressed in.*

"Would you please excuse me? I would like to go change out of these dirty ridding clothes, I had almost forgotten that I was still wearing them."

*Walking over to the bar and placing a few coins down she asks for a room that she might use. With a key in hand she vanishes into the back.

She was only gone for a little while, but had managed to change into a soft blue dress and had brushed her hair smooth. She could here the music and soft talking of the other guests. Smiling to herself she walked to the bar and asked for a plate of fruit and glass of wine.*

[Rosalee LuAnn]

"Hello. My name's Daronir, what's yours?" Rosie jumped slightly, and found she was still a bit tired and out of touch with what was going on around her.

"Hello, Daronir. I'm Rosaline, but most people just call me Rosie." she said with a tight smile, self-conciously rubbing her cheek, glad to find that the wrinkles were quickly smoothing out. She forced herself to stop rubbing it, and pulled a stray strand of blond hair our of her eyes. She wasn't the talkative type, so she could think of nothing more to say, and stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

[Slinker]

"I really hate to be so rude, but, I was wondering if you'd seen a girl about as tall as you, with long brown hair. She... would have looked a bit like me, I suppose... But where are my manners. Would you like something to drink?"

Daronir shifted uncomfortably. He hated having to ask that question, but he knew he must ask everybody he could as soon as the chance arose. He missed his sister dearly, but it was a poor way to start a conversation."

[Rosalee LuAnn]

"I'm sorry." Rosie answered, looking as if she meant it, which she did. "I have only been here a short time, and I haven't yet met anyone. I'll keep my eye out." she smiled briefly, as quickly as it was there, it was gone. "A small drink does sound nice though." she said. She was tired from her journey, but not yet ready to retire, and was eager to talk. After her journey she was also tired of solitude, and was anxious to make new friends.

[Slinker]

"What can I get you then my lady Rosie?" said Daronir, removing a small pouch from his belt and beckoning to a waitress and pulling out a chair for Rosie.

[Orophin]

Orophin walked back downstairs to join everyone. He stopped near the bottom of the stairs and looked around the to see if he recognized anyone besides Artea.

As the continued to look, he was surprised to see as many familiar faces: Darotek, Fuinur, Mirelena, and ... Rosie! His heart jumped because not too long ago, he and Rosie had (in his eyes) became quiet good friends.

He made started to make his way over to the table Rosie was at, but then noticed someone else sitting at the table. He then decided it better to not approach her right now. He gotten quite close to her before he decided to keep walking past her to Artea's.

Whether she saw him or not, he didn't know, but he didn't want to interupt her conversation.

[Morohtar]

Deren took a long sip of his drink before answered.

"In truth, I'm not too sure. I was taking a journey to the Elven Kingdom in Greenwood, taking my time and seeing the healing that had taken place in that realm since my last visit. I set camp one night in a clearing and had started to cook a meal when a notice him walking around just out of the light. I thought little of it and went to bed. I awoke to find him nibbling at the leftovers of my meal, and when he noticed that I was awake, he ran off into the forest. I noticed him numerous times of the next few days, and finally he approached me openly. After that he would follow by my side, waiting for snacks and meals. I almost ran out of food before arriving at the kingdom because of how much he ate. From then on he has followed me everywhere. I'm not sure if it is merely that I feed him that convinces him I am one to follow, or whether it is something else. It is not matter though; he gets fed, and I get a companion on an often lonely road." Deren smiled, and took another sip.

He looked at the lady's creature, still enjoying it's treat. He laughed and said, "It seems we both have unusual companions. What interesting tale have you to tell about yours? Surely it is more of a story that mine."

[Rosalee LuAnn]

"What can I get you then, my lady Rosie?" Daronir asked nicely, and Rosie was suddenly a bit flustered, though she didn't know why. "Um, well, just a mug of cider would be wonderful." she answered, sitting down on the chair he'd pulled out for her. Daronir spoke with the waitress and passed her a few coins. While he did, Rosie glanced around, and she thought she saw Orophin, and gave a slight smile in greeting--but he wasn't looking at her, so she shrugged, deciding to go talk to him later when she had a chance.

"So..." she said, trying to find a good subject to start up conversation, "How long have you been in these parts?"

[AraCelebEarwen]

The voices and sounds were a good change from her normal, daily life. She enjoyed the taste of the fruit that she had been given and sipped at the cool wine, letting her thoughts wander for a while.

Wander. Now that was something she would have to do. She had only been here a short time but she must soon be on the road again. Perhaps one day she would find something that would keep her in one place, but even then she would long to travel.

She finished her meal and walked over to one of the windows. Perhaps she would come back soon, at least, she hoped it might be possible. Looking back into the room she could see the candles being lit for the night, the faces of the people she had listened to and one she would never forget. Some tired, some happy and still others just looking at the fire in the hearth or talking to friends. This was a better place then some, even if the shadows in the corners sent chills down her spine, she could at least see them well enough to know if she needed to react or not. Yes, she would try to come back.

She started to pull the dark cape tight around her shoulders, then stopped, perhaps she should wait tell the night was a little darker. Tell then it would be good to enjoy the heat of the fire and make sure she had all the things in her bag that would be needed for the next few days or so. She would not be caught unaware this time, she would be ready.

[Alagos]

They approached the Inn like a swift wind, horse and rider moving in tandem to appear as one on the high road winding towards Grey Hill. The great beast was a magnificent sight to behold--a mighty Elven-bred steed with shapely muscles, free-flying mane, and a coat the mottled grey colour of a summer rainstorm. Atop its naked back perched a slender ellon, gloved hands lightly gripping the bright and braded locks of his mount.


"Tampa, Alagos!" The Elf cried, and the stallion halted at once, for before them stretched a charming patch of hoary oaks that seemed to embrace a sizeable lump in the earth, a hill that seemed to have half-swallowed a quaint little hostelry! Circumspectly, the Elven rider considered his situation and the abounding possibilities. He had not begun to suffer the wanderer’s plague of fatigue, however, he could sense it seducing the stalwart uprightness of his posture and the vigilance of his eyelids.


“Noro, mellonamin,” he murmured on a yielding sigh, and the great beast sped forth towards the floating smoke coils and merry yellow glow of the Grey Hill Inn. It was not five minutes before the firstborn and his steed arrived in the artfully neglected courtyard of the Grey Hill. He dismounted at the precise moment that the horse below him planted his feet. Resting a hand on his stormy flank, the ellon whispered directions gently into his companion’s ear, and the stallion obediently trotted towards the rear of the establishment.

Taking the steps of the Inn’s front porch with slow and eerily graceful deliberation, the elf removed his gloves and pulled back his hood to reveal fair and unblemished features, a high and regal brow, and eyes as deep and mysterious as the sea. Reaching for the latch with willowy fingers, he slid through the port like a gentle breeze--cool, calm, and unnoticed to all but those with the keenest senses.

[Mirelena]

Cairbrent was about to change his tune to something more lively when a timid tug came at his sleeve. He turned to find another of the hired hands bearing a plate of steaming hot food. How many people does Molly have to help her? he thought with more than a trace of amusement.

He gratefully accepted (and paid) for his food, then wove his way through the gathering crowd towards an unoccupied table and chair. A draft from the door sent a shiver down his spine, but when he turned to see who had entered, he observed no one new.

Shrugging, he seated himself and started digging in to his food. A hot meal and cozy room was a pleasure he had long been unable to afford. I must be careful though, he thought, Not to spend all my money in one place. Carefully he tucked the stained leather pouch into his shirt. Or to lose it...

[eleventy-one]

Fuinur watched the girl disappear upstaris and reappear with a beautiful blue dress. He did not approach her, niether did he attempt to strike up conversations with any other members of the bar. He simply sat, waiting, watching, listening, observing. He seemed passive, but one look into his deep turquoise eyes and you not think so. He took in every word of the bustleing inn, his mind half on his buisness and half on matter that were none of it.

[Slinker]

"How long have you been in these parts?"

Daronir looked down at his drink and then looked back up. "I haven't been in these parts long. I don't really have time to stay in any one place for too long. You see, my sister is missing, and I am trying to find her, that's why I asked if you'd seen her. I've been travelling for months, and I've seen many places. This is one of the more friendly, I have to say.

How about you? How long have you been around here?, and how did you get here? or do you live here?

[AraCelebEarwen]

She had waited too long. Getting up from her place by the fire, a quick hand pulled the dark cape tight about her shoulders.

Glancing a last time around the room she sees a new face has been added. No matter, she has to be on her way or face being trapped here for far too long.

As her silent stride carried her to the door, she thought to herself. Yes, she was sure to come back, there was something about this place she almost... enjoyed.

None but the fastest and most observant cough that in the moment she pulled her hood up her eyes flashed the same green as her necklace, then she vanished through the door and into the night.

[Rosalee LuAnn]

"How about you? How long have you been around here? And, how did you get here? Or do you live here?"

"Oh, no, I don't live here. Most of the people who come here are wanderers, I think, like myself. I recognize some faces here," she said, glancing around the room, "from another inn I used to stop at, called The New Crystal Goblet. It went out of business, I'm afraid, since people stopped going there. (OOC: Heh. Or something like that.) I was reccomended to this inn, and I think several others were as well."

"I am sorry to hear about your sister." she said, meaning it. "Is there any way I could help you find her? I'd be happy to help."

[Elorendil]

Elorendil stroked the panther's massive head lovingly as she pondered how best to answer the question. After a moment, she spoke. "I was riding in a long-distance race on my mare, Nimar, when I found her. I had stopped for the night and was setting up camp when I heard a small cry. I was curious, so I followed the sound to the source. She was only three or four weeks old, sitting beside the skinned body of her mother, yowling from hunger. I found the tracks of hunters, who had apparently killed the mother for her fur and taken the other cubs to sell. How Dúathmin escaped them, I do not know. It was clear she would not survive on her own, so I took her in and raised her. She has remained with me ever since then and has proven herself to be a loyal companion. Surprisingly enough my mare, Nimar, enjoys her company, so she always accompanies us in races."

A comfortable silence fell between them as they sipped their drinks. He has been to Greenwood the Great, she thought. I wonder if he has met Mirelena. She was distracted from her train of thought by a gentle breeze that brushed past her, barely disturbing her long, dark tresses. She turned slightly to see an elf slip quietly into the Inn and shut the door behind himself. Elorendil greeted him with a half-smile, then turned back to Deren. "You have been to Greenwood, you say?" she asked, just to make conversation. "Tell, me what is it like there? My travels have never taken me thence."

[eleventy-one]

He was sad to see the beautiful girl leave. Fuinur did not stir from his seat however; he had the distinct feeling that if he waited long enough she would be back. He watched the pub, waiting for someone interesting to approach him...

[Elendae]

*Seeing that the dark elf had not seen the message yet, the Dark stranger approaches the Haradrim Man.*

"Greetings. You have come far from the south, I can tell by your darker tone and accent. I take it that your conversation with the elf-maiden traversed a path other than you would have hoped. May I sit down?"

[eleventy-one]

The man's pointedly correct observation caught Fuinur's interest.

"Yes, please do." He indicated a chair across from him. "My name is Fuinur and, as you have so rightly guessed, I am from Haradrim. How is it that your guesses, all of them, fall so close to home?"

[Orophin]

Sitting at the table that he had been sitting at for a while, accompanied only by Orophin, Artea begins a song that he'd recently wrote.

He played the lute in such a way that it was slow haunting.

"I travel the road set before me,
I never know what I may see,
or where I may be."

"Searching for things I may never find,
and in some ways I don't mind,
my journey hasn't been to kind,
and still I don't mind."

"I've found something that I didn't know I would,
A friend that's more faithful than I could be,
Because I've never had to be a friend to anyone,
I've always been cared for by everyone,
But now I see that I can be a friend like I should."

"I know now that I know not what seek,
Though I wish I could have just a peek,
I just seem so meek."

"I'm still searching for a lot of things,
When I find them, I've no idea what they may bring..."

The music drifted into an even slower tune then to a stop.

[Mirelena]

Respectfully, though with a bit of irritation, Cair silenced his flute as another began to play his instrument. The haunting melody sent shivers down his spine, though he wasn't sure why. The slow pulse of the music threatened to put him to sleep, but Cair fought it off. There were still people to meet, drinks to consume and women to woo.

What kind of lame gypsy would he be if he fell asleep already!?

When the strings of the other instrument had stilled, Cair glanced over at the musician. He was seated at a table with another man and conversing quietly. Likely accepting compliments, Cair thought. Cair wasn't exactly the most humble man around...

Cheerfully, Cairbrent picked up his reed again and started full tilt into a lively dance. The flute sang clearly under his experienced hands and the Rohirric man was gratified to see several feet begin tapping the beat upon the stained, hardwood floor. Soon, he hoped, a few brave souls just might consider joining in the merriment and adding their own flair to the dance.

[AraCelebEarwen]

None had seen the slender brown body slip into a shadowed spot by the fire. Sharp ears listened to the sounds of the room, and half closed eyes looked around at the different faces. The smell of drink, food and other, less savory things, kept a small nose slightly in the air. This is what she did best, sit, listen, and observe with eyes that were deep green pools of wisdom and secrets. There wasn't much to do, she liked it that way.

After watching a fly buzz around for a while, it came close enough that, with a swift swat, it fell silently out of the air. Her eyes closed in a long blink and she almost smiled to herself. She breathed in deeply and let it back out as a sound that only she could hear. 'purrrrr'

[Rosalee LuAnn]

Rosie's conversation with Daronir was interrupted when the sound of a singer accompanied by a lute reached their ears. Rosie turned and watched, the singer was not far from where she sat and she could hear easily through the noise that still surrounded them. Her mouth was not smiling, but a smile evident in her eyes for those who knew her well enough. She clapped when the song was over, not particularly loudly, it was true, but she really had liked the song.

[Elendae]

* The Dark stranger sits down after the invitation had been issued *

"Guesses? No, merely the observations of an experienced traveler. Your accent and skin tone give you away as a man from the far south and your necklaces that you wear about your neck show that you are Haradrim. Now the about the elf-maiden, I can only guess about her, but I could tell from your expressions and movements that you were becoming less comfortable as the conversation between you two continued. Don't bother trying to woo an elf-maid while you still wear the symbol of your Dark allegiance about your throat, as it will only bring pain and frustration. As for myself, the few that can act