[Orual]

The White Horse Inn had finally appeared in the distance, warm and inviting and intimidating all at once. The girl on the road rubbed her arms, stooped a little under the weight of her pack. The breeze swept her onyx hair away from her face, tendrils creeping across her blue eyes. Tears hung in those blue eyes, and a few fell onto her freckled, teenage face.

She clutched her small bag of dried herbs in her small hand, and uttered a small prayer. She just had to fit in here. She had nowhere else to try.

"Hello, my name is Delia, and I'm looking for a job here," she recited under her breath. "I'm very good with herbs, and I don't mind hard work. I could scrub the floors for you if you wish, or I could work in the garden, if you have a garden, or I could tend bar, I promise I wouldn't drink a drop. I don't want any money, just food and board. I don't eat much, and I won't need a big room, either."

She quietly opened the door to the common room, and she immediately shrank back against the wall. Far too many people here. She crept over to someone who knew like she was in charge. She heard someone call her Aylwen, and she crept up to her. "Excuse me, ma'am," she began. She took a deep breath. "M'name is Delia and I need a job here and I'm willing to work for nothing but room and board and I'm good with herbs and I can scrub the floors or tend the garden or anything you need." She paused for breath, and made a dismayed face. That wasn't at all how she had intended it to go. She flushed, and fiddled with her purse. "Sorry..."