[Orual]

Éorlan took out two pencils and began quickly to sketch out a rough picture of the men. He bent over his work, one arm wrapped around the page as though to keep others from seeing it, and he was lost to the Inn for several minutes until he had satisfactory sketches in his hand--very good likenesses, even for Éorlan, who had spent much of his time as a child learning to draw.

He scowled at the drawings. Perhaps they were a little too much like the men, for him, at least. The faces on the paper seemed to leer at him, taunting him. He stopped himself from tearing them apart, but just barely.

He then turned to Bethberry, but she was talking, so he just slipped them under her hand and went back to his drink. He looked up at the ceiling, a strange smile on his face. What luck! He had truly never expected help...he had expected to recover here, and go to find his sister on his own. With companions, his chances of finding his sister rose by unforeseeable amounts. But would any come? He looked back down, grounding himself in reality. He was a stranger. No one knew him, or of him, or had any reason to care for his sister. He could not blame them if they did not choose to join him. But even the possibility...

With that happy thought in his mind, Éorlan smiled and sat back in his seat.