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Limaris having called the Inn Keeper had let himself be absorbed into the atmosphere of the open room, however he knew that unfortunately his time would not be unlimited and he was to have only two days in Stock before setting out at first light on the third to report back to the company.
It was however likely that he would be sent back to continue on any leads, and indeed on more of the regular patrols closer to civilisation. Yet he had just arrived and the smell of the ‘heady ale’ was thick in his nostrils and intoxicating, he had no qualms over what he was going to order.
He had set his coin pouch on the counter and as he sought likely avenues of conversation with the local inhabitants, he was informed by his superior before he had left, that the weather and family was always a good point to start with. But to be wary of asking too many questions of these types, lest he be judged as a nosy busy body and consequently ignored. For although Hobbits he had been told were a talkative folk there were wary of complete strangers and the regaling of close family tales to them.
On his second glance around the room his eyes fell upon a rather shady character in Ranger garb no less faded by constant exposure to weather and the dirt from the road, though that may just have been the light which appeared to be a little dark, sat at the back of the room at the opposite him about to enter conversation with what may have been a man or elf; he could not deduce which for his back was to him, though it was plain he was tall, a good few inches more than Limaris himself. Which he estimated would put him just over six foot, not uncommon for a man however his inquiring gaze was interrupted by the site of a small figure skittering in his direction.
His gaze now fell upon this figure, a Hobbit, which was clear by his height, and it immediately struck Limaris that he would turn out to be a most affable individual, a revelation of sorts that could only be attributed to his round face framed with brown curly hair and the most sparkling of eyes he’d yet seen which even from this distance were clear.
Here was someone who clearly thrived in the company of others. Sporting a fine embroidered waistcoat, over a cotton shirt he swung round the corner and in behind the counter.
Limaris started, and struggled with keeping his shock from the Hobbit and others in the Inn who may have been watching. He was about to be addressed and he had not thought of a cover story nor a name for himself, annoyed at himself for being easily distracted, he put on half a smile as the round face of what must be the Inn Keeper looked up at him.
“I am the inn keeper, sir!”
He exclaimed with what perhaps may have been a slight puff having sprinted the entire length of the room; however Limaris could not be sure.
“How can I help you?” he continued.
Maintaining eye contact with the Inn Keeper, he quickly thought it best to take the direct and friendly approach without making it obviously false.
“Good day sir! Allow me to commend you on your most athletic approach! I would not ask for your “help” rather your dire assistance in obtaining a tankard of the finest ale in the East farthing for a foot weary traveller.”
Hoping he had taken the right approach and set a correct and believable tone he waited the Keepers response.
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