The Green Dragon

[Nonesuch]

A tall man wearing the dusty livery of the Guard of the White Tower of Gondor enters the Inn. His boots are worn and his face grimy from long riding. Seizing a rag from the bar, he mops his brow, then collapses into a chair at an empty table.

"An ale, please," he asks of a server. "And if you have such a thing, a glass of cordial made from the plant known in the Common Tongue as agave." The barmaid looked blankly at the Man who sighed in disappointment.

When the ale arrived, he drained it in a single long draught. He ordered a second, then looked about. A number of the patrons were staring at him and his uniform. Painfully aware that he still wore the dust of the road as well as his clothes, he swept at his tunic with an open hand to little avail.

A bold young Hobbit approached him. "I am Elanor," she said. "What brings a Man of Gondor so far to the North?"

The Man smiled. "Well met, Elanor," he replied. "I am Hithmir, and I am here on an errand. I am one of the King's messengers and a bear a letter for one who is said to be currently in The Shire..."