[Arawethiel]

Arawethiel slowly opened the door to the Green Dragon and stepped in. Any observer could tell she had had a rough journey. Her brown hair was tangled and full of little leaves as well as a few sticks. The brown cloak and dress she wore was covered with dirt and the garments looked as though they had been subject to many a thorn bush due to all of the little tears and holes in them. Hefting her heavy traveling bag, Arawethiel crossed the room to the bar.

Once there she let the bag fall with a clunk upon the floor and asked the bartender to send for the innkeeper. She was eager to secure a room for the night. While waiting Arawethiel sat and sipped an ale to soothe her parched throat. Her deep brown eyes glanced around the room and she noticed with surprise that some of the patrons at the Green Dragon were Elves. She wondered if perhaps other races frequented the Green Dragon if Elves stayed here.

Taking another drink from her ale, Arawethiel felt the weariness from her trip fully sinking in. She never imagined her feet could ever feel so sore. Hopefully the innkeeper would arrive soon so she could retire to her room. She sighed as she silently acknowledged her father's words before she began her trip. Traveling was indeed not as easy she thought it would be.

The state of her clothing was an annoying reminder of the many falls she had on her way to the Shire. She grimaced when she felt another thorn sticking into her side. Plucking it out with a wince she counted that as the 64th thorn she had had to remove since her last stumble into a pile of thorn bushes. Arawethiel could not believe the trouble she had went through just to get to the Shire, and it was the shortest trip. The thought of going to Rivendell made her shudder. "Why oh why," she moaned to herself, "did I decide to become a messenger?"

[ April 06, 2003: Message edited by: Arawethiel ]