[Airerûthiel]

Dwarin places the two pitchers on the table and Airerûthiel pours her cousin a drink. "Derakis, when I first saw you I sensed the path that led you here was not unlike my own. I have walked the wilds of this lands for five years, following the slaughter of my family when I was just ten years old.

"My mother was of Elven kind; my father, a Man of Gondor. Outcast by their families, they settled halfway between Minas Tirith and the border with Rohan. You may have heard the name of my house in the legends that come around in inns like this every so often: Rocconinquë, the White Horse.

"We had a beautiful open-plan house with its own archery ground and stables - I had a horse of my own, Elenvendë, who was as swift as the wind and whom I loved dearly. As the outcast of my family I did not have many friends save Laitalathion and his brother Maikadurion; I preferred to spend my time reading and out roaming the land around my home by myself.

"Then one night five years ago I woke up to find myself being dragged from my bed by an Orc and into the Great Hall of our house. My elder brother and two younger sisters were already lying dead when I arrived there. Despite the fight I put up to break free from my captors, they bound me and then the leader of the Orcs raised a long knife to my throat.

"I was about to scream when my parents burst in, clad in full battle dress, their eyes shining with the spirit of war. My father charged into the fray; he managed to kill several of their number but was slain himself into the bargain and fell to the floor. I ran to his cold soulless corpse and wept salt tears for his sake; he had been my mentor and I still love him greatly. The Orc that had previously tried to slay me returned to finish his task as I lifted my father's sword and scabbard from around his waist and slung them around my own.

"I turned to see my mother crying, 'No!' and then speaking in her own tongue as the Orc ran her through with his blade. Her blood stained my father's scabbard and still does to this day. I drew Minyacirith and killed the Orcs using what grace had given my mother - I later learnt the words she spoke had allowed her gifts to pass to me and save my life.

"The Orcs put up a good fight though, especially their leader - he gave me my scars. The wounds healed long ago but deep in my heart the pain never stops; it is always there." She looks away as she reveals her injuries of times long past by pulling up her left sleeve, and the others notice a gash on her right cheek. She also has a scar that runs down the entire length of her left forearm.

"Then I dressed in black, chose a hooded cape and various trinkets to remember my family by, and rode west astride Elenvendë until I reached The White Horse Inn at Rohan. There I was forced to sell my horse and the rings and pendants and brooches valued by my house. I continued my journey on foot and have done so for the last five years. At first I sought revenge on the ones who murdered my family and all akin to them, but then I realised this had robbed me of my senses. So I continued my travels in Middle-earth, looking for knowledge but occasionally coming upon a little adventure too.

"But enough of my story! Valeria, I believe you have a tale you wish to tell us all? I for one would be glad to hear it."