[Nurumaiel]

The door to the White Horse opened once more, and a tall man of Rohan stepped in, giving a cheery smile to everyone who turned to see who the newcomer was. Culoth jumped up from the bench she was sitting upon and hurried forward towards him. "Firramer," she said, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just thought I'd stop by and get an ale. It's been a weary day of riding for me," he said. "Would you mind if I sat with you?"

"Of course not," she smiled.

They went to the table she had been sitting at and sat down side by side on the bench. Culoth fingers traced the patterns on the wood table, trying to keep the question she longed to ask inside. Firramer would be tired and wouldn't want to be pestered by questions, especially ones she already knew the answer to. But she could not resist, so she burst out eagerly, "Tell me… were you riding with Father today?"

"Yes, I was," said Firramer. "And I had a few other riders with me, one of them Permacar. Rochir -and his brother- begged to come with us, but your father wouldn't allow it. He told them, 'Sometimes I do let you come, but today could be dangerous.'" Firramer touched the sword at his side. "Today was not so dangerous, and these were of no use."

"Firramer, do you have any tales to tell?" Culoth asked. She nodded her head to the small crowd in the inn. "These people here at the Horse do love a good tale, and your tales are wonderful."

"Well, I suppose if I were asked I could make a good enough tale," he said thoughtfully. "The Elf who was traveling to Lothlórien and passed through the Gap of Rohan. And it's true, as well. Your father was also there, I believe. In fact, when Permacar insulted her horse she grew angry and challenged us to race. Thoan was the one with the swiftest horse, so he did."

"Really?" Culoth looked amused. "I suppose that was many years ago?"

"Many years ago." A wide smile came to his face. "In fact, Lady Culoth, your father was so young that he didn't know how to act. He'll tell you himself he was rather rude to the Elf maiden, saying she had no business in Rohan and the like."

"I would love to hear that tale told," said Culoth, looking innocently the other way.

Firramer was silent for a moment, and then he smiled and stood up. As he walked towards the counter he said, "When you go home, ask your father, and he'll tell you."

"But, Firramer!" Culoth jumped off the bench and hurried after him. "All these people would love to hear the tale as well." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please, Firramer?"

He stopped for a moment, but did not turn around. "Well, Lady Culoth, if they ask, I'll consider telling the tale, but now all I want is a good mug of ale."

Culoth rolled her eyes and went back to the table. Firramer was always so easy to convince when he visited them! He loved to tell tales, but he was acting so stubborn now. Of course he would be tired, but he had once told her, "No ale, no meal… no, nothing can cheer me up after a long day like a good tale, whether listening or telling, though telling, my girl, is the better."

Let him have his ale. He'd tell the tale eventually, whether the inn wanted him to or not. He wouldn't be able to keep back from it, especially if it were a tale about the Elf he would always speak of.