[Elora]

Vanwe crossed the yard in the new evening, unable to stop herself from pausing to gaze upwards at the stars that had freshly sprung in new life that night. The northern sky still held wonder for her, new to her after many years of looking at the sky at what passed for her home. Perhaps, with time should she be granted it, she would learn the names for the stars she could now see. She ran fingers through her loose hair which danced on the breeze of the summer night and resumed her path towards the inn.

On her way through the yard, she noticed a rotten post to which a new horse was tied. She lightly set hand to the mouldering wood in confirmation of it's state, and made a note to see if she could remedy it in the morning. She'd see to the horse on her way back to the stables for the night. For the moment he seemed pleased enough to simply rest and nip at the new shoots of grass the hens had not found.

With pleasantly simple thoughts turning in her mind for a change, the elven maiden walked into the commonroom and glanced about. The Ranger was still there, but Silvanis was gone. Her eyes flickered over the rope that was coiled at Kaldir's belt and darted away as a shiver danced up her spine. Not for her. Don't let that rope be for her. Vanwe continued on to the bar and pondered what to do.

She was not so hungry yet as to brave Cook, who was likely still nonplussed about the afternoon's incident. A fresh flush of delicate rose filled her cheeks at the thought. Many sat at tables with ale or wine, laughing, swapping tales, conversation eddying on the air around them. Some sat alone, watchful and wary. She knew that air, for often she smelt of the same thing as she had the first night at the inn. If someone had approached her then she would have bolted.

On that night, Aman had kindly given her food, drink and even lodgings free of charge. She'd lost her purse the following day, possibly incriminating notes with what little money she had left now with Silvanis. So that meant water, and not the wine she had first tasted that first night. It had been a long day, filled with so many things that her head spun to think of them, and the wine would have been good...

But so was the water. Fetching another earthenware mug, Vanwe filled it once more and sipped at it, watching the commonroom over the rim. She spotted a table in a quiet nook, under a window, and moved towards that with feet that could not disguise their elven grace for all of her worn dress and shy mannerisms. Vanwe settled into a seat and took up her study of the night sky once more.

Through one window of the inn, a face now unguarded and open was turned towards the sky, bright blue eyes wide and hair that held the light of the commonroom within golden strands. Daughter of a High House, kin to Galadriel and Finarfin, a descendant lost behind the shadow of evil that had fallen on her mother and likely murdered her father. She sat oblivious to all this and the rest of the commonroom in a rare moment of peace with her tapered fingers laced around a pottery mug, at once fey and all too real, and wondered what they named the beautiful northern stars in this land where perhaps she could find more peace, and answers. Perhaps... hope flickered bravely that it could be so within her heart.