[Alcarillo]

A new figure stepped into the Green Dragon, a tall, fair elf, wrapped in a deep grey hooded cloak. He was not quite as tall as other elves, but was tall nonetheless. His name was Alcarillo Nession, and he had ridden for many miles from Harlindon.

He had come to see the world, and had passed this way to see the land of the Halflings. After giving his chestnut horse to a stable-hand, he stepped into the warm glow of the inn. There were a surprising amount of elves, he thought. There was one reading a book, and another sitting at the bar. As Alcarillo stepped forward he hoped he didn't stand out too much. He was wearing armor underneath his cloak, and he hoped that the chain-mail would silence. But eyes were elsewhere as far as he could tell; towards a group of musicians who had stolen most chairs, and there were some children standing near the fireplace, which turned the walls a lovely creamy color.

Alcarillo sat in a corner at a table to himself, eyeing the other occupants of the inn, especially the elves. Perhaps there were more elves traveling the roads in these safer times? Whatever the reasons everybody was here, he settled down, took a small, red, leather-bound book from his cloak and began to read a tale from his childhood, one of the tales he heard from his mother about Numenor and that he had written down in his old notebook, and he began muse about where to travel to in the morning.