[ElenCala Isil]

A fairly young maiden dimounted her horse and led it to the stables. She pet the mare and walked towards the doors of The Green Dragon Inn. Looking around, she then stepped inside. Immediately she felt more at home in the inn, which she had never been to before.

The maiden's name was Túrelie. She had deep golden-toned hair and wore a raiment of dark, dark blue. Bound at her neck was a cloak or light grey, which glinted in the light as silver. Her eyes were a bright green.

She stepped quickly to the counter and asked for a room, and a bit of water. Recieving her glass from a young hobbit, she thanked her graciously and quickly drained the glass. She then proceeded outside.

Túrelie made her way to the stables, and up to her dark mare. She pet the horse lovingly and whispered to it. The horse neighed softly as in reply.

She stayed outside a bit, looking up at the stars and the moon on such a lovely night. She saw something glimmer in the corner of her eye. She looked up towards the roof of the inn, where the glimmering was coming from. She thought she saw someone but when she peered up she saw nothing. She glanced down at the ring about finger, which had a similar glimmer in the moonlight.

Placing the hand with the ring close to her heart, she looked back at her mare, and then made back for the inn.

She ordered a bit of wine and then sat herself down at a table near the corner of the inn. She took a sip, then thought about her family.

It pained her so to think about her parents, for there was so little she knew of them. As a child her parents were always off, so she was left alone or with some distant relative. She felt as if there was a hole within her, where the love of her parents should have been. She peered at the ring once more.

It was a ring wrought of fine silver. She rotated her hand to see the design flowing around the ring. It seemed as if it were a moonlit wine wrapping around the ring and ending at the middle, where inset was the moon itself. A gleaming white jewel sat there.

The ring was the only memory Túrelie ever had of her mother. She knew that it was once hers. As she thought back at her childhood, it was difficult to even imagine what her mother looked like. The only other thing she could remember was the soft singing.

She gazed down at the ring which seemed to give off a mysterious gleam of light, though no other light reflected upon it. Túrelie looked up and decided to observe the happenings of the inn, and to get to know the inn a little better.

The inn seemed to relax her, and she sat back watching the goings-on merrily as she sipped her wine.