Ngole Yaviemiel

Ngole slowed her horse to a stop. Looking carefully through the protection of her hooded cloak, she glaced upwards to the sign above the door.
The Green Dragon Inn... That was right.

The elfess swiftly jumped from her horse to the ground. She pointed down the road and softly whispered to it. At this, the gallant steed cantered down the pebbled path, and into a local stable. Hakiel (the horse) was of Rohan blood, and understood the ancient tongue of Quenya. He was her closest friend.

Ngole stepped now to the damp wooden path leading to the Inn. Pulling her hood from her deep brown waves of hair, she touched the brass knob. Pushing steadily, the door opened, and warmth flooded her senses.

Smiling to the bookeeper, she stepped into the Inn, and cleared her throat.
"One room, please; whatever is available."

He flipped nimbly through the pages, and scanned down the row with his finger.
"Ah, room 124, just that way," he pointed through the room, to a dim hallway.

"Thank you." Ngole took notice of everything in the room... the many people.. from different lands... the blazing flames within the fireplace... the worn oak floor... the sturdy wooden tables. It was a very bustling place. Everyone talking, singing, dancing, and drinking.

Shaking herself from her sort of trance, she made her way to the softly lighted hall.