The White Horse

[Airerûthiel]

"Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo, mellon."

Aranel turned at the sound of a greeting in the Ancient Tongue to see a half-Elf standing behind the bar. He had shoulder-length red-gold hair that looked like a waterfall of flame when it caught the soft warm haze of the lamplights' glow, and cerulean eyes where fire and ice danced. "Welcome to Rohan, to the inn of the White Horse. You seem weary and lonely. Here, drink this; it may help you," the bartender said.

Maikadurion handed the Elf-maiden a pint of ale, and she took it gratefully from him. Feeling that one of them should introduce themselves to the other, he offered his weather-worn hand to her. "My name is Maikadurion, and I come from Ithilien in the land of Gondor. As a worker for Bethberry, who is innkeeper here, I am always greatly curious to hear the stories of the travellers that come through this inn. What is your name and your tale?"

[ December 30, 2002: Message edited by: Airerûthiel ]