[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen glanced surreptitiously at Maen, genuinely surprised at the compliment after the woman's initial behaviour. It barely showed in his opaque eyes as he considered though; not just the woman's proposition, but also the Maen herself. She seemed to trust him, already (although her pony obviously had different ideas), and yet she barely knew him. This idea seemed strange to Atharen, but then, he had never been able to trust that easily; not for years.

The actual proposition didn't take much thinking about. The Ranger was part Dunedain, descended from the same people as King Elessar, and what's more, the White Tree of the faithful resided in Minas Tirith.

"What you speak of is detestable, my lady," he replied, starting to walk again, the pony's rein's held in one hand.

"So will you join me?"

He glanced at her again - she was so eager, so fiery, so passionate. He smiled briefly. "I have some alliance to Gondor and it's king, although it is not my homeland, and these that seek to bring down Gondor may therefore be regarded as my enemies. The enemy of a ally is an enemy also," he quoted one of his father's sayings lightly.

Maen smiled, but the Ranger held up a hand. "And as to your other proposition - I would love a meal. I know the Inn you speak off well." And the Innkeeper won't refuse me a meal either...

~*~

The Hollowdale Swan was a prosperous public house and Inn in one of the lighter parts of Minas Tirith, and was a meeting place for all manner of people, from a young working lad meeting his sweetheart to the soldiers of the guard, old and young. It always seemed exceptionally busy and usually friendly, and today was no exception, even at such an early hour of the morning - or such a late hour of the night, for some of the late night drinkers, and bills were being paid, or rather, the Innkeeper was attempting to get them paid, for not all seemed so keen to pay. One such individual was standing at the bar, arguing heatedly with the portly, red-faced Innkeeper.

The 'Swan had often been a fond place of rest for Atharen, as it was not unlike his mother's workplace, in and around which he had spent much of his childhood, and the Innkeeper knew him quite well - as did several of the more rowdy customers who had passed over the years. But he was still on his guard; the amount of weapons present was clear, and he had no doubt others would be not so visibly worn. Even as Atharen was taking a quick stock of the customers, another man walked in, tall, dark and stocky, bearing both a sword and bow. Atharen looked him over; an ex-soldier it seemed, with an air of purpose about him. The man didn't take notice of the Ranger and the young woman with him, crossing straight away to the bar to wait patiently for the Innkeeper.

Maen slid into a seat by the window and Atharen advanced towards the bar. He waited for a few moments as the agitated customer continued to put forward a series of ridiculous arguements to evade his bill, then decided maybe things needed to be hurried up; the Innkeeper was obviously tired and didn't look like he wanted to be dealing with such a man at this time.

"Excuse me, sir, is there a problem?" he murmured, the lilt of his residual Rohirrim accent and the quietness of his voice covering a hint of something else. The plump, red-faced man turned indignantly, a sneer on his face...then took another good look at the Ranger. Atharen's hood was still up and he was dripping slightly, the plains of his face shadowed by the overhanging hood, the long white scar standing out slightly, his dark eyes glittering ever so slightly, the way his hand shifted slightly under the cloak to draw attention subtly to the broadsword. He blustered for a moment and Atharen smiled slightly, turning to the Innkeeper, who hadn't yet recognised him and was evidently worried about a fight - and about this hooded individual.

"Mr Longshead, is there a problem here?" There was a hint of a smile in his voice and he tilted his chin slightly so the Innkeeper could see his face more clearly. Relieved recognition flitted across it before the Innkeeper continued to glare at the rowdy customer. "Well, it seems so; I'm afraid this man has-"

"-decided to pay and give his compliments to the chef and excellent Innkeeper here." The man's bulging eyes were still fixed on Atharen's sword and with a shaking hand he emptied a few coins onto the bar before leaving with as much hasty dignity as he could muster. Atharen grinned after him and lowered his hood, shaking his head to settle the wet, blonde-ish hair. Garth Longshead grinned broadly.

"Atharen, m'boy, I thank you very kindly - he was beginning to grate of me nerves and I'd left t'club in the back. My my, 'ts been years since you last dropped by; special occasion?"

The Ranger half smiled and inclined his head in a sort of shrug. "I'm not entirely sure, Garth; could well be. However, what I would like are some of your Ada's fine sausages and a few slices of toast, and some cider, if you please. Oh, and how is your Ada?"

Garth beamed. "Doing just fine, Atharen - delivered our fourth last week, would you believe it - a fine young lad, resembles his father somewhat, if I may say so meself." Atharen grinned as the Innkeeper bustled away towards the kitchen, then passed back over the Maen.

"Can I get you something, my lady?"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:57 PM January 30, 2004: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]