[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen watched the newcomers as they approached. Some knew too much about this before... he thought to himself, prickling slightly. How?

But at least one he was not suspcious of - Roryn, the former ranger, with whom he had travelled before, if only for a short time. "Roryn, former ranger of Gondor at your service."

Atharen grinned, standing as the man introduced himself and clasping his hand, smiling. "Roryn - and you even graced us with your real name, honoured, I'm sure," he added sardonically, making the other man raise an eyebrow and grin also. But all the time, Atharen was aware of the Haradrim man who had joined them a few minutes earlier - the ranger's jovial front was not entirely genuine. But for this man to relax more and for Atharen to therefore be able to watch him more closely, he couldn't have the man knowing quite how alert he was. As Atharen sat again, Roryn flashed him a slightly questioning look, almost inperceptible to anyone else, and the former gave a tiny shake of his head. Later.

But even as he was distracted, a flash of steel caught the ranger's attention, and he was back on his feet in a second, the dirk in his left hand. On the other side of the table a man and a woman faced each other down, and Atharen was struck at once by the fierceness of the woman's gaze - like embers burning on pure hate as she looked at this man, a beautiful weapon in her slender hands. But the ranger would not allow such hate to come out - not so soon, and not here; he had some debt to the Innkeeper, Garth, as well as to Maen in keeping peace in this company.

But Maen was also on her feet now, her voice authorative as she addressed them all, speaking in particular to the fiery woman. "Peace! There will be plenty of time for taking blood Miss Heart, Sirs, once again I ask you to please sit."

Warily watching the other man still, Crystal nonetheless resheathed her sword and sat. The others did the same but Atharen, when he joined them in doing so, made sure he sat slightly closer to Crystal. His dirk did not go away; he simply let his cloak fall over it, his fingers still curled around it and ready. The others settled after a second and watched Maen as she spoke, making an introduction and giving what information she had. Atharen knew some of it, for the young woman had told him some on the way, and besides, he did not have much interest in money, although the quantities offered were astounding and he couldn't help blinking and letting her eyes flick up to the young woman's face. Does she hope to buy their loyalty? Such things are not so easy, although it may work with mercenaries. And that amount of money can be dangerous when flashed around...

Sitting back slightly so as not to be easily watched by any without noticing, Atharen let his eyes dart from one to the other as Maen spoke, lingering on each but staying for longer on the easterling, Carathir. Maen introduced him with trust in her voice; confidence, trust and pride, defiance towards any who would scorn him for his race. It is not that which I hold against him, lady... Atharen thought to himself, watching the easterling carefully. But even as he did so, Carathir's own dark gaze met his and held it there, neither of them looking away. It was only Maen that caused them to break this, as she sat again and Carathir adjusted his position to allow for her. Atharen watched him for a moment longer, then wisely looked away; he did not want to lock with this man too tight. Not yet. But watch he would.

As Maen continued talking to the others, Atharen allowed his mind to wander slightly, his eyes down on the table top as if disinterested or even slightly bored, although his ears were pricked for anything. And the fierce woman beside him, Crystal, was not willing to let go of the anger which possessed her, it seemed.

"I won't hurt you. I just want a truthful answer. What dealings have you had with General Dorian of Rohan?"

Atharen's hand tightened on the handle of the weapon underneath his cloak, hearing the barely disguised tension in her voice. But the tension was prolonged for a moment, as Ferethor looked away, distracted like the others by a crash from a far table. One of the drunks had tried to take a swing at another and unbalanced himself, falling with a crash onto one of the rather less solid wooden tables. Atharen would not usually intervene with such things, and he wanted to take more mental notes on the newly formed company, but he saw his chance here to cancel or at least delay the tension between Crystal and Ferethor. Standing so he was beside Crystal and looking over as if his attention was caught by the cacophany of sound, he took her arm gently as he started over. She began to struggle but the movement was covered by his cloak. Bending so his mouth was close to Crystal's ear, he murmured, "Such tension in such places may by waylaid, my lady. It cannot be so well to try to pick a fight."

Releasing her arm, Atharen started towards the fight, as if to try to intervene, but he stayed in the shadows near the wall, knowing Crystal would follow him. Sure enough, after a second, her hand touched his arm and he turned to listen to her.