The White Horse

[the real findorfin]

Again the doors of the White Horse opened and Fin stepped inside. His heavy black cloak covered his fine garb and gave him the appearance of a grave figure. He looked around at the scene that greeted him, 'what no looks?'

He had travelled far from the west and in those regions every newcomer was watched an inspected for faults. In a way he enjoyed the lack of attention and he strode towards the bar, but a glance from several females certainly did nothing to dampen the half-elf's spirits.

"A pint my friend," he said jovially.

As the drink was poured, Fin sighed happily. He had been sleeping rough for many a day and now it was time to relax before he moved on again. He had made good time since Rivendell and had many weeks to spare before the meeting. If the common room was anything to go by, he would be staying for quite some time.

He picked up his pint and took a long swig.

"Ahh, that's better!" His loud comments attracted some attention but many were deep in their own conversations. Fin wondered if anyone would talk to him, or would he have to make conversation.

"We'll see," he murmured, "we'll see."