Finian was sorely tempted to tell Ĉdhral to make sure that the elf's room was comfortable while he himself went to fetch some fresh clothes for Thalinar. However, he said, "Oh, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to fetch some fresh clothes for our Mirkwood. Some fellows played a prank --" he sniggered -- " and he fell into the river. I'm sure that we will be able to find the culprits soon enough," he went on cheerfully, "as this is the only Tavern in town. Would you like to stay for a couple of days?" He asked, turning to Thalinar.
The elf nodded and Ĉdhral scurried down the stairs. Finian strode toward the small empty fire place and began to build a fire for the elf to dry himself. "My name, Master Elf, is Finian. My father --" he stopped here, remembering the charred remains, and his crying sister. "My father died in the attack and left me in charge of the Inn -- or what was left of it, " he said with a feeble grin.
The elf remained silent and Finian said, "But he died nobly." He nodded and said, "He did not grow old and feeble, which was a dread of his as it is with all of us I think."
The fire blazed into life and Finian asked, "Is there anything else Master Elf?"
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