[Gorothlammothiel]

Well rested, Soronûmë returned to the bar of the inn but he was still uneasy. As he walked into the busy room he felt a sense of danger. Without realising Soronûmë lowered his hand and secured a tight grip around the hilt of his small sword.
He looked around and noticed Eruwen talking to another on one side of the room and several new faces had arrived. Soronûmë walked over to Dwarin, “Excuse me master Dwarin, would it be possible for me to get water for my horse?” Dwarin looked at Soronûmë strangely as if to suggest he didn’t have the look of a rider about him, “Certainly sir, there is a tap round the back with other oddities you might find useful. We’re just as used to horses here as we are guests, even elves.” Soronûmë thanked Dwarin and headed towards the door, raising the hood of his cloak as he went. As he reached the door of the inn he looked back to see a beautiful elf maiden standing alone at the bar, her long hair flowing about her shoulders. There was a sense of awe about this maiden; she had a light shining from within. He thought about going over to her, and then remembered his friend and the song he had sung the evening before. Turning back to the door with a solemn look on his face Soronûmë took a step outside.
It was a bright day, which didn’t please Soronûmë too much, he much preferred a clear night or autumn morning. He saw that Dwarin was indeed right; there were several horses outside the inn, tied to fences and such. Soronûmë called to his horse and soon enough the horse came to him. He greeted his friend as his hand delicately stroked over the horse’s head. He then went to get some water from the tap.