Nemair looked over his shoulder into the coming darkness of twilight. Nothing was there though he strained his far seeing eyes. Nothing. The itch in his side would not leave. His ears twitch as the soft sound of hooting owls float on the soft wind towards his perked up elven ears.
Everything was to quite, which was the problem he supposed. Used as he was to traveling as a scout for the King in the woods of Eryn Lasgalen... It was never this quiet there, and it hadn't been for all his long life.
New sounds reach his ears as his eyes see a glowing rectangle of light. The door to an inn perhaps. Well its high time he settled down and found a drink to calm his jumpy nerves.
As he neared the door to the inn Nemair was able to discern the sounds more and more clearly. Raucous laughter, drunken singing and shouts. Perhaps this was not the place to settle ones nerves he thought as he came to the door.
A small sign swung in the silent zephyrs of early summer, it read the Green Dragon. An interesting name for a place in the Shire, which was supposed to be quiet and monster free, thanks to the work of King Elessar...
Shaking his head slowly the elf pushed open the door and ducked his way inside.
Upon entering the inn Nemair new that something was different about this inn, then from the halls of Eryn Lasgalen. Everywhere different groups settled, elves, dwarves, hobbits, and men, all mixed up to whatever system this place had devised.
As he looked around the room he spotted a small bird in the rafters trying to stay out of sight, and he smelled what could have been cooking venison from the kitchens.
Coming up to the bar he waited for the small hobbit lass to get around to him.
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