Light, warmth, and the smell of good food permeated the main room of the White Horse, adding a considerable sense of conviviality to the establishment. Though, it was the familiar voice of Bethberry and the distinctive scent of coffee that served to awaken Anglachel from his introspective ponderings on such trite issues as trade agreements, guild policies, and inventory management.
"I did not travel all the way from Esgaroth to contemplate the banality of a merchant's life," said Anglachel to himself.
"Bethberry is of course correct. I, along with the rest of the inn's patrons, came here seeking to take part in a story, an adventure. Surely someone here can find a role suitable for a common merchant such as myself?"
As Anglachel finished verbalizing his thoughts, he recalled that he was now in the realm of Rohan, land of the tall and fair Eorl the Young, who's heroic deeds led a now forgotten poet to write:
'Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.'
|