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The Forsaken Inn - Third Age 2904

HalasĂ­an

Dunedain Ranger
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(Originally posted by Karl 'Valandil' Tabor on the Entmoot website)


~The Scrolls of the DĂșnedain and the Histories of the Elves,
Hobbits, Dwarves, & Men of Gondor and Rohan have these
events documented for this time~
  • Bilbo is a lad who turns 14 later this year, living at home with his folks, Bungo and Belladona.[*]Gerontius, 'The Old Took' - is still living.[*]Aragorn's great-grandfather, Argonui, is chieftain of the Dunedain. His grandson, Arathorn, is a young man - but Gilraen hasn't been born.[*]Thorin and his people are still living in The Blue Mountains - and Smaug still broods over the treasure of Erebor.[*]To the south, Turin II is Ruling Steward of Gondor, and Fengel has just become King of Rohan.[*]The 'Fell Winter' was yet to come and Tharbad hasn't yet been flooded and the bridge destroyed, but Tharbad is nearly deserted anyway.[*]There's 'trouble' with orcs, wolves and trolls from time to time, and rumors of things even worse in Mirkwood beyond the Misty Mountains.[*]Some still talk about Elrond at his place of Rivendell, away east - but not many seem to know exactly how to get there - and the Elves, or others who might seem to know - they just won't say very much about it.

This RP is strictly Middle Earth time period based and within the realm of the histories before the War of the Ring. So no magic dragons or such, or relations to anyone "famous". Afterall there were alot of happenings that were not spoken of. Rating is a "heavy R" meaning the wild stuff is ok, but not the full on descriptions... you know what I mean. ;)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It was Early spring of the year of the Stewards Reckoning of 2904 of the Third age. The Forsaken Inn had stood beside the road east out of Bree for years uncounted. It was known that it was sacked and burned during the war that brought down the kingdom in 1974, but it was not a total loss since the armies of the Witch King that flanked this far south did not do a good job in their arson. That and the fact the fall rains had started early and the timbers were wet and dank, and it was raining still when the fires were set, Damage was pretty much confined to the interior and was smoke in nature for the most part. The Inn itself seemed to weather well since though, ironicly from the fact the fire set to destroy it only served to heat the wood and boil the pitch some, causing it to preserve the woods integrety. But the fire-darkened wood spoke of its history. It had a dozen rooms, six small windowless groundfloor rooms that held a straw mat and a rickety table anc chair. They were three to each side of a dim, narrow hall that ran back from the left corner of the large stone fireplace. Just inside the hall to the left, a narrow gap led up an open stair that curved hard left in a spiral over the common room and back by the stone fireplace to an upper hall. The six rooms above were little roomier than the lower ones, but wooden windows that could be opened were in two of then at the far end. Ths slope of the roof made part of the room good for only sleeping, but the first one immediatly to the right at the top of the stair had the advantage of a wall to the backside of the fireplace. thi s provided warmth in the wet and chill months, but was a bane in the hot summer months.

Along with the Inn, the stables were still standing, and now only stood due to the patchwork reinforcing that had been required over the 900 some years since.

The family that owned the land and the Inn lost most of what they had in their flight west, and upon their return in 1975 after the defeat of the Witch King, they had little but the remains of the buildings left. The Ferinee family had been around the parts for centuries, being descendants from the Dunlandish Hillmen folk that migrated there from the south in the Second Age. They, unlike most of their kin, didn't mind so much the coming of the Numenoreans as they saw it as a way to profit. the Ferinee elder secured the deed to the lands east and south of the road where he had built a smithy and sold goods, but the town of Bree was where the main economic activity became centered, and the Ferinee clan were left to make do. The Inn was built when tired travelers heading west would stop and ask for a place in the stall to rest, and so it was how the Inn got started.

Old Bear Ferinee is the current owner and innkeeper, and he and his wife and several of their mostly-grown children live in a newer add-on built in back of the Inn. The kids help out, but dream of going places, for they are always hearing tales from travelers. Of the Ferinee clan nowadays it is hard to say if they're more like the Bree-folk, or the wild Hillmen of Rhuadur, or of the Dunlandings to the south. For the years have mixed their blood, with some DĂșnedain in that mixture here and there, and their looks and demeanor varies alot. The number of children born to the Ferinee clan through the years was sometimes due to promiscuity of the daughters and the waywardness of the sons, and through the years, though the Inn was still in the original family, it was not necessarily passed to the eldest son as was custom with the DĂșnedain. Many a daughter had inherited it through the years, and now Bear had it.

Bear was a friendly enough fellow, but he was a stickler about getting paid. His wife Cammy was sweet and friendly, but could cut loose a line of curses at Bear or one of the kids if something didn't get done proper. Bear insisted customers pay up front, especially as not many folks pass through these days. He wiped the bar off as he listened to the rainfall outside.
 
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HalasĂ­an

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The rains fell in torrents as the wind whipped it about. It had been wa wet spring so far, and cold too. It was as though winter wished not to give in to the warming of the sun this year, but it would only be a matter of time. The darkening skies spoke of the approaching dusk, an the smoke that drifted out of the chimney of the Inn looked inviting. The place was small and Siano hoped the small place still had room.

Siano was a DĂșnedain Ranger of the line of Halvaris, who was a Royal Guardsman to King Arvedui. Siano served faithfully Chieftain Argonui and were vigilent in the pursuit of evil in the lands. He quietly rode up to the Inn in the rainy grey finish of this day and looked at an old worn sign... Forsaken Inn .... Yes, this was it though it had been some time since he was last there. He preferred this place to the busier Bree, and he pulled his packs from his dark-grey horse Venna. He let her run free, for stables made her uneasy, and she found some fresh grass upon a knoll across the road The rain bothered her not and if it did she would find shelter in the nearby trees.

Satisfied in Venna's comfort, Siano stepped to the door under the dripping porch roof, and pushed the great oak door open. Letting it close on its own, he looked around the hazy common room and let the water drip from his cloak for a bit before walking to the bar and asking the Innkeeper if he had a room, food, and refreshment.

"You be one of them Rangers?"

Innham asked, but Siano just looked at him with dark eyes.

"Uh... right... a room, food, and drink for a night. That will be...."

A silver coin of Arnor hit the bar, and he grabbed it up to look at. It was old, and well worth the price of what was asked for. Siano looked at him as he stood silent, then said,

'Is that sufficient?'

"yes... Yes! Just we don't see coin of the old kingdom much here. It will do for your evening I am sure."


Innham said as he looked again at it before securing it in a tight pocket. He then tapped an ale... Bree Proper, and handed a key to a room to him.

'Thank you.'

Siano said as he turned and leaned against the bar. He had taken the position where he could keep an eye on the door and the common roon and turn and look down the bar. He sopped the ale and smiled. It had been many a month since he had the luxury of enjoying a good brew, let alone a dry place to sleep.
 

HalasĂ­an

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(If you want to RP in this thread in its stated time frame than write up a decent post and do so. Dont just post requests to join. I prefer a good size paragraph of a post and no liners.)

Siano made quick work of the ale, and also the stew that Innham served. The rains made no effort to ease outside, and the dank air permeated the Inn even as the hearth tried blazing its hissing wet wood. Occasionally a gust of wind would reverse the draft on the chimney and the room would fill with a burst of smoke. The hazy air absorbed also the pipesmoke Siano lit after the stew.

He was glad most went west to Bree, for the Forsaken was a seedier place, and usually quiet. Sleeping in the wild got a might uncomfortable at times, especially when the weather was so. Even the chill, damp mildewy rooms of the Forsaken would be a fair treat to this Ranger. he thought of maybe just sitting by the fire as it was the olny source of heat and any attempt to get dry was to be near it.
 

ThrĂĄin II

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As Siano was throughly enjoying his pipeweed one of the doors which connected the hall to the rest of the inn opened with a squeak and a man walked in bringing a bucket of water. As he stepped in he eyed Siano for few people in those days used to go to the Forsaken Inn. He put the bucket down next to Bear's chair and looked around for the innkeeper but saw him nowhere and so turned around and made for the same door, but a deep voice spoke from behind him.

"You would have no knowledge of three dwarfs passing through here about a week ago, I presume?"

The man turned around and looked at Siano but somehow avoided his gaze.

"I have just returned the other day from Bree, I am sorry..." he said in a voice that though sounded honest seemed to not be telling the truth in some hidden way.

"Will that be all, sir?", he then asked, and Siano nodded at him and took another smoke from his pipe, and the man turned around and left the room, closing the door.

Just as Siano was preparing to go up to his room, Bear's voice echoed through an oper door from another hallway...
 

Elora

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Elora shouldered the door to the inn with heartfelt gratitude. Those last few leagues had been interesting, nearly too much so if she were inclined to admit that to anyone. Once inside, she kicked the door closed and stepped to one side. A quick survey of the common room revealed that it was a quiet place. A quiet, warm, dry place. She pushed back the sodden hood of her cloak and the soaked hair beneath it. The rain made it curl even more furiously than was its usual wont, but that was the least of her concerns.

She peeled the wet cloak from her shoulders, hung it a nearby peg and frowned at the lake swiftly forming on the floor below her cloak and around her feet. The damp seemed to reach into her very bones only slightly less intense than the weariness that seemed to fog her senses. No more contracts, she vowed, as she made a direct line to the bar. No more contracts no matter how handsome the pay. Elora leaned against the bar, waited for Innham, and fought to keep her eyes open. She wouldn't be the first to fall asleep at the bar, but she'd been there often enough to know what happened to the unwary souls who had done so.

The sound of a man's voice raised turned Elora about to peer in the direction of the hallway. As she did, she made eye contact with the other sole inhabitant of the common room. A ranger, by appearances, with a long-stemmed pipe firmly clenched between his teeth nodded at her and seemed to smile. Puzzled by that, Elora leant back against the bar and considered why he might be smiling. Her muscles were starting to cramp and so she stretched one leg and then the other, crossing her feet at the ankles and continued her patient wait.

A sudden start woke Elora. She was still propped against the bar, head bowed. Eyes opened to her muddy boots. Someone was talking, a man.

"Thank you very much," he said. Elora blinked fully awake and realised it was Innham doing the speaking. She stared at him a moment and then grasped the point. A muddy trail of destruction marked her path from her sodden cloak to her current position at the bar. The Ranger quietly smiled at his table still.

"I'll clean that up," she said. Innham's face was one of scepticism, which faded with a grunt as he took in her earnest expression. "You'll be wanting something to drink," he replied. Elora had a long list of things she wanted, a drink being one such thing. Food, a dry bed, a warm fire, a good night or seventy of rest. She listed those to Innham and swiftly settled the account, wisely opting to not name the other things she needed but were not spoken of in polite company.

Innham moved around to the other side of the bar and gestured at the line of kegs lined up along the far side. Elora shook her head, a thick braid still soaked swinging across her hips with the movement. "Oh no, something stronger, I think," she replied with a wink. Innham couldn't help but share her conspiratorial grin, but then sobered as he remembered what had happened the last time.

"I gave my word, Innkeeper, and I will keep it. Never again shall the incident that shall remain nameless occur by my hand," Elora solemnly intoned. Innham smiled and set to his task of fetching the required sustenance. "Not that it was my hand that was at the root of it all in the first place. Why, I was barely involved..." she murmured, reaching to accept the proffered tankard and downing a heady gulp. She sighed with pleasure, half danced and half floated to the table closest to the hearth and settled to await her meal.

All she had to do was eat, drink, have a bath and find her warm bed. It was simple, really, straight forward... and if she saw those three dwarves... Elora awoke with a start again, lifting her head from the table in response to the question: "You look familiar..."
 

HalasĂ­an

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For some reason, it was really hard to get some solid sleep. Siano yawned as he opened his eye to see daylight. He must have fell asleep finally in the night, but it seemed what sleep he got was restless and filled with dreams that seemed too much alive that any rest he may have gotten was wasted on their intensity. He dozed off again for a bit,but the sun came now i n the window and warmed him. He sat up.

"Guess I'll go down to the common room and see if there is any morning tea."

He managed to get himself together and look half presentable, and opened his door. He wondered about the woman who had looked familiar was still around, and who else may wander in for a breakfast meal at this lonely inn east of Bree.

Plopping himself down where he sat the night before, a fresh cup of herb tea was brought to him. The young serving girl curtseyed after setting the cup down, and turned and went back to the bar.

"They are getting younger every day."

and took the cup of tea and brought it up to breath in its fine fragrance.Siano said to himself.
 

Elora

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"-Yes, Innham, I am sure. The matter is dealt with."

"My thanks, Guardian,"
Innham replied as he followed her through the door into the common room.

Elora's expression became speculative as she swung around to face the innkeep, "I don't suppose your thanks might extend to...?"

Innham shook his head from side to side as he continued past her, "Oh no! Not even close!"

"Really?"
Elora persisted, following the man as he headed for the door to the kitchens.

Innham reached the door and began to wind on an apron with well practised movements. He took a deep breath and fixed Elora with a look that was surprisingly firm for a mortal, in Elora's opinion at least.

"You listen to me, Guardian, there is nothing you can do or say to change my mind. I said no then, I am saying no now, and if you ask me tomorrow, next month or next year, the answer will still be no."

"You're worse than a Dwarf,"
Elora retorted, folding her arms.

"You should have thought about that before you decided to take that wager five years ago," Innham replied steadily.

Clearly, Elora thought, it was fruitless to speak to this man further. Thinking wagers through to all their various ends before one took them was the perfect way to render a wager dull and uninteresting and she desperately needed something interesting to pass the time. The endless years. Muttering to herself in a language no one on mortal shores spoke anymore, Elora swung away from the innkeeper. She missed how Innham released pent up breath, the expression of relief on his face, quickly followed by flickering amusement.

"Take a seat, Guardian, and mind you don't startle the guests. Business has been slow of late. I'll send Ella out with your usual," he said and disappeared into the kitchens with a nod for Siano.

Elora surveyed the common room. The Ranger, vaguely familiar, was the sole occupant. Now, what were the customs for these things nowadays. It was so hard to keep track, especially with Men. They changed so frequently. Elves and Dwarves may be stilted and stuck in their ways, but they were predictable at least. Was she supposed to ask him, just take a seat there, take a seat elsewhere or wait to be asked?

"Please, sit if you will," Siano said from behind his cup of tea and, before she could pepper him with questions, nodded to a seat at his table.

She sank into it with the same sort of movement that Siano had noticed the night before. Liquid, unearthly. More than feline. Innham had called her Guardian and then there was the matter of her eyes. In the morning light their colours were brighter than they had been last night. The movement of the colours was lazy, rolling along calmly. Siano blinked, startled to find himself being drawn into their depths and focussed on his tea.

"My name is Elora," she said without preamble, her voice a low velvety timbre that purred along.

"Siano," the Ranger replied softly. He looked, Elora thought, tired but before she could ask Ella appeared with cup of something dark and pungent.

The thick earthen ware cup was placed on the table before Elora, Ella bobbed a curtsy and skipped off for the kitchens, oblivious to the way Elora stared after the girl.

"What," Elora said as she returned her attention to the cup, "Is that?"

Siano shrugged, "Your usual?"

Long fingers drummed on the table. Was this some sort of jest, Mannish humour, from the innkeep or was this really her usual? Elora sighed, picked the cup up and lifted it closer to explore.

"Do you customarily drink unknown substances?" Siano inquired and Elora looked up at him, brows lifted.

A smile, a trouble making, trouble loving, mischevious grin if he had to describe it, appeared on her face. Dazzling, more than mortal eyes should see, and yet he could not look away.

"You make an excellent point, Siano," she told him, all but purred, and then downed the contents of her cup in one swoop. It was not what he had expected.

Siano watched her finely arched brows lift, her eyes widen and then close. She set the empty cup down and leant back in her chair, eyes still closed.

"Oh," she breathed softly and then with more feeling, "Oooooooohhhhhh, I remember now."

Elora's eyes opened and Siano thought the colours were moving even faster now. Elora twisted in her chair with that unearthly movement to peer towards the kitchen. Then she was up and across the room to obtain more

"What? More already? You drank all of it! That stuff has come a very long way, Guardian. A very, very long way. It's expensive, and - oh fine, fine," Innham sighed and, looking pleased with herself, Elora strode back to her chair at Siano's table.

"I knew he had more," she told him as she sat.

"More of what?"

"Coffee. More is on its way now."

"Is that such a good idea?"


To Siano's eyes, the Guardian seemed to be buzzing with energy and she was not the sort of woman, he imagined, to leave to her own devices here in the north with a surfeit of energy.

"It's an excellent idea," she told him, "You should try some yourself, if you've a mind to. If you do, be careful. It is powerful."

"You are not careful with it."

"No, well...you and I...we're different."

"Clearly,"
Siano muttered, sipping more tea.

Elora settled into her chair and considered the Ranger a moment, "You are familiar to me. Perhaps I to you. Tell me, Siano, how might our paths of crossed before now?"
 

HalasĂ­an

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"You are familiar to me. Perhaps I to you. Tell me, Siano, how might our paths of crossed before now?"

Siano sipped his tea, though he was somewhat enjoying the aroma of this coffee she was drinking. It could be useful as a field ration, when needing to stay awake on long nights in the wild north. Trouble would be that everything else would smell it when it brewed. He pondered the question and said,

"I'm not sure. I do frequent the inns from Bree to Dale, and south to the port of Pelargir, when I can get there. Things are pretty hostile down there. Maybe you can tell me?"

the last time someone had asked that it was that black-haired elf woman. She was trouble. He wouldn't be surprised if she walked in the door next. He then said,

"Maybe at the markets in Bree? Or the markets off west in Mithlond? I can't say rightly. So tell me, what brings you to this old place east of Bree?"

He refilled his teacup with the pot that sat before him.
 

Elora

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"What, here?" Elora answered, playing for time. Had she seen him in Pelargir?

"Oh, I suppose I am up to my usual business," she continued with a rueful smile, "Though I am trying not to meddle. Personally, had it not of been for my 'meddling' with Morgoth, then we'd not be sitting here now. And they didn't seem to mind meddling in the long run then, did they, though they were ridiculously late."

Elora fell silent, ruminating on the matter for a moment. "In any case, I left the Second Age well enough alone and look how that turned out!"

"Your usual business?"

"Why, meddling, of course,"
she answered with a flash of a grin and then waved a hand in a generally north easterly direction, "Angmar could do with more meddling, if you ask me. Prophecies and fates be damned. What about the people suffering here and now? As for those Istari, where are they? A whole five sent and I've not seen hide nor hair of them. If they're hiding from me, I doubt they'll add up to a whole lot when things really count. The Blue ones are unreliable, always have been. The Brown one is...odd...and I've met a lot of odd folk, so that should tell you something. The White one I am not sure about. The Grey one has potential, if they let him. He's of a mind to meddle too. Sensible, he is. Anyway, I have been nothing less than restrained in Angmar. Restrained."

Elora could tell from Siano's expression that little of what she had said had made any sense. In that moment, Ella returned with a fresh cup of coffee, sketched a curtsy and skipped away. She drummed her fingers on the table in a rhythm that reminded her of Pelargir and then it occurred to her.

"Ahhhh....yes... I have it now. I know where I have seen you, Ranger," she said, the rhythm continuing. It was a sinuous one made for dancing. His eyes fell to her fingers as they tapped away. "Yes, that's definitely it. But I dare say you won't remember."
 

HalasĂ­an

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"Maybe I won't remember, maybe I will, but it really isn't all that important. There is no need to think about it, for the past is the past. But this day, right now, we are here. Your business is your own, and Mine is mine. I will recommend the cheese platter here. The place may not look like much, but they do get that right."

A cheeseboard came to the table and Siano was ready to try some. He of course offered to share, and he asked Elora,

"So tell me, where do you know me from?"
 

Elora

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Elora could not help the smile that spread over her features. One moment the Ranger was telling her the past was meaningless and yet here he was now, bribing her with cheese and leaning forward.

Mortals...so changeable and then not...unpredictable...chaotic. The appearance of her smile made Siano swallow, hard, and he leant back a little. That spoke well for him. Elora had lost count of those who had turned and fled when she smiled. She was of a mind to check the expression lest it interfere with this pleasant distraction and she dropped her eyes to the cheese Siano had made mention of. When her smile faded it was not artifice on her part. This is what they were calling cheese now?

"Are you sure that is cheese?" she asked, equal parts curious and dubious.

The Elves, on a whole, were somewhat overrated by her book but they had gotten cheese right. Elora's attention flicked up from the platter of cheese to the Ranger seated across from the table. He seemed to be enjoying it, she thought - as far as she could tell. But then, she had seen a lot of questionable activities that mortals appeared to enjoy. Not all of them pleasurable. He nodded encouragement at her and Elora began to wonder if this were some sort of challenge. If it were a challenge, well that changed the complexion of everything.

She cut a sliver of what he called cheese and lifted it to her mouth. Cheese could not kill her so really, what was the worse thing that could happen? And so had many a challenge Elora had accepted begun. She quirked an amber brow in a perfect arch and slipped the morsel of cheese between her lips, eyes firmly on Siano. She lifted her chin as she chewed and swallowed.

"Mithlond," Elora stated, a safe enough place and one he had named himself.

"I have not seen you there."

"Yes well, mortals tend to stand out in a place like Mithlond."

"You, my lady, do not look like an Elf,"
he observed and found her luminous smile reappeared. It was almost blinding.

"Really? Do you think so? I've been ever so worried... Or are you just being nice?"

Really, Siano wasn't sure how anything he might have said be deemed a compliment or an insult.

Frowning, he shrugged, "I am merely stating the obvious. You do not resemble an Elf, a Man or Dwarf. In fact, I've never seen anyone quite like you before."

"And you won't again,"
Elora replied with a melancholy note, and shifted in her seat as if collecting herself, "Still, by my choice alone did I venture here and nothing is served by regret now."

Siano sat back, defeated. She was near impossible to understand or follow and he was rather too tired to pretend.

"I would have noticed you had I seen you at Mithlond," he said flatly.

The weariness of his voice rang clear to Elora and she could not help but meddle. She hoped he didn't notice what she was doing, though. Sometimes mortals reacted badly to anything they deemed witchcraft. And it is tiresome indeed to argue on the one hand that you are not a witch even as you use what they deem sorcery to extricate yourself from the pyre they insisted on lashing you to. She needed to distract him, Elora decided, so that he did not notice his fatigue fading away.

"That is true," she admitted and then leaned forward towards him, "And I have not been to Mithlond for more centuries than I can count. CĂ­rdan insists I update his maps every time and, I confess, it is not my favourite past time. I have seen you here, in Arnor, on your travels. You will not have seen me for I am forbidden to interfere. Yet I cannot help but be curious. I watch. I will admit to that. How can I not watch? What am I to do with the long, empty years? Seal myself away in a cavern somewhere? I watch and I wait."

"For what?"


Ah, now there was a question she could not answer. She waited for the return of her beloved and return he would. Siano would not remain calmly seated if she told him she was waiting for the End of Days.

"Cheese, for one thing," Elora replied and asked, "Tell me, is that really what you call cheese now or are you having a jest?"

"It's cheese."

"Truly?"

"It's always been cheese,"
he insisted and saw her arched brow lift.

"I think more coffee is in order," Elora replied with a knowing wink and then, "How did you sleep? I didn't keep you awake, did I? I did try to keep the noise down."
 

Sméagol

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The door to the Inn slams open as three men the size of oxen come barreling through.
A fourth, much, much smaller figure is seen dancing in and out of their mosh to get into the Inn. The red haired halfling shouts at the biggest of them to slow down and order a mead, for god's sake.
Chestnut haired and with a raggedy beard, the largest suddenly stops and rests on his knees in mock to the halfling.
Smirking, he chuckles and says, "Little One's got some zest eh?"
The smaller of the three, a bald man in his midlife, swaggered around behind the hobbit, and crossed his hulking arms.
The last, a blonde Rohirrim, by the looks of his clothing, stood up next to the Raggedy one, snickering.
The halfling was unphased, and pulled back his cloak, revealing two blades, one a half sword, and the other a dagger.
Raggedy stood, and put his hands up in mock defeat, "Woah there Little Knife. No need to draw the steel."
The Oxen moved from the half-man, jostling and laughing their way to a round table by the bar. The halfling smoothed out his cloak and walked to the bar, his head barely reaching the counter ledge.
Cammy, who had watched the whole ordeal, walked over to the halfling, and warningly said, "Now I'll have none 'o that in my Inn, you hear?" Steely eyed and scolding.
The halfling's cheeks went as red as his hair, and his eyes went to the floor.
Softening a little, Cammy put on a smile, and said, "Now what'll you have dear?"
 

Elora

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Elora sighed and shook her head before she confided in Siano, "This place has really gone down hill of late."

"It's never been a particularly fine establishment,"
Siano countered and Elora nodded.

"I know, but even so, standards are slipping all the same."
 

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