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Bêthberry · 02-04-2003, 09:05 PM

Cold, rainy, even icey weather had not deterred traffic from coming to The White Horse. Bethberry looked over the many patrons entertaining themselves and each other and was thankful that the coffers would be full this week. It had cost much to outfit the pursuers who went after the horse thieves but with crowds like these, it would be possible to recover the costs. she hoped fervently that the horses would be recovered and everyone would be back soon. The delay in their return worried her, had nagged her through out the weeks. Finally, she returned to her work alcove, opened the small window, and whistled for Wyrd. He appeared; she fed him, attached a hurriedly written message to his leg, whispered to him, and, carrying him to the window, set him off. What good he could do she knew not, but a sign by any means might be helpful.

But there were patrons to see to. Closing the window, she returned to the mead hall. There she was happy to see Éorlan, Smith of the Word and Culoth putting their heads together, and that Hirilaelin and Parin, were chatting--Bethberry wondered if Lauromae would join them or this strange new visitor who looked vaguely familiar. He wore the clothes of a Ranger but had the air and carriage of a guard of Gondor. Strange. Perhaps Adanedhel would be interested in talking with him. She hoped soon to be able to discuss her plans with him. Susan appeared to be bringing that quiet soul Cole out; they were talking warily it seemed. Then there were the patrons Bethberry needed to speak to directly.

She approaching a most affable looking half-elf who seemed to favour the ladies.

"Fin, I believe your name is. It is a supper you are wanting and ale? Silver talks mightily here. Show me yours and your dinner will be here in ten minutes, whatever you chose."

He eyed her with a grin and handed over the payment ere she moved on.

The man who chose a table by the window had kept his brown cape wrapped around him. He watched Bethberry as she moved around the mead-hall; nor did he remove his eyes as she approached him.

"Our spiced wine meets your approval?" she asked him cordially. He nodded.

"Will your dinner be as good, and your rooms?" he asked, a hint of insouciance in his voice, but just a hint.

"It would not be otherwise, Master Traveller, for even were our fare poor, hungry travellers are often not fastidious in their tastes."

He managed a grin and a nod.

"Dinners are three pieces of silver, a bed, with a fireplace, eight pieces, if you need to stay the night. We have rooms for a longer stay should you require it. Shall I tell the maids to prepare one for you?" Intrigued by his manner and anxious for any news of other travellers on the road, Bethberry sat down at the table opposite him.

[ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

02-04-2003, 09:05 PM	#208
Bêthberry Cryptic Aura Join Date: May 2002 Posts: 5,977	Cold, rainy, even icey weather had not deterred traffic from coming to The White Horse. Bethberry looked over the many patrons entertaining themselves and each other and was thankful that the coffers would be full this week. It had cost much to outfit the pursuers who went after the horse thieves but with crowds like these, it would be possible to recover the costs. she hoped fervently that the horses would be recovered and everyone would be back soon. The delay in their return worried her, had nagged her through out the weeks. Finally, she returned to her work alcove, opened the small window, and whistled for Wyrd. He appeared; she fed him, attached a hurriedly written message to his leg, whispered to him, and, carrying him to the window, set him off. What good he could do she knew not, but a sign by any means might be helpful. But there were patrons to see to. Closing the window, she returned to the mead hall. There she was happy to see Éorlan, Smith of the Word and Culoth putting their heads together, and that Hirilaelin and Parin, were chatting--Bethberry wondered if Lauromae would join them or this strange new visitor who looked vaguely familiar. He wore the clothes of a Ranger but had the air and carriage of a guard of Gondor. Strange. Perhaps Adanedhel would be interested in talking with him. She hoped soon to be able to discuss her plans with him. Susan appeared to be bringing that quiet soul Cole out; they were talking warily it seemed. Then there were the patrons Bethberry needed to speak to directly. She approaching a most affable looking half-elf who seemed to favour the ladies. "Fin, I believe your name is. It is a supper you are wanting and ale? Silver talks mightily here. Show me yours and your dinner will be here in ten minutes, whatever you chose." He eyed her with a grin and handed over the payment ere she moved on. The man who chose a table by the window had kept his brown cape wrapped around him. He watched Bethberry as she moved around the mead-hall; nor did he remove his eyes as she approached him. "Our spiced wine meets your approval?" she asked him cordially. He nodded. "Will your dinner be as good, and your rooms?" he asked, a hint of insouciance in his voice, but just a hint. "It would not be otherwise, Master Traveller, for even were our fare poor, hungry travellers are often not fastidious in their tastes." He managed a grin and a nod. "Dinners are three pieces of silver, a bed, with a fireplace, eight pieces, if you need to stay the night. We have rooms for a longer stay should you require it. Shall I tell the maids to prepare one for you?" Intrigued by his manner and anxious for any news of other travellers on the road, Bethberry sat down at the table opposite him. [ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ] __________________ I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away.