[Amanaduial the archer]

Hisimé

Hisimé woke with a start at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor close to him, his eyes wide and his fingers reaching for his belt. A second unpleasant surprise came when he realised his sword was not attached to his belt, and he sat up sharply, before taking a moment to realise where he was. His dark, dark blue eyes met those of a young woman who had just entered from outside, her sleeves rolled up past the elbows and her hands soft-looking, as if she had been washing. The apron she wore and the way her hair was tied up in a highly practical fashion led the Gondorian to suspect she worked her; but surely he would have noticed her before...

Still, you didn't exactly wait to take in the sights of the Inn now, did you? Hisimé pushed his fingers through his sandy blonde hair ruefully, stifling a yawn. After arriving yesterday and realising he wouldn't be able to help in any significant way at the time, the Gondorian soldier had taken the oppurtunity to have a little explore of Edoras. But, after getting caught up talking to a few of the gossipy old women after asking one of them for directions back to the Inn, (being as he was, at the time, thoroughly lost, and it was late afternoon), the gentlemanly young man had ended up helping her out and telling her all he knew of Gondor in the last few years - as she had explained in the course of her life story, her dear husband ("a lazier man there never was, may he rest in peace") had been a Gondorian, and they had lived there for many years. By the time he had disentangled himself from the conversations, regreting he could not stay but worried about being locked out of the 'Horse, Hisimé had managed to find he way back to the Inn and had sat down in front of the fire to have a quiet drink and a read...

So much for that. He must have fallen asleep almost immediately, as he didn't remember getting any further in the dog-eared, pocket-sized book, which now lay sprawled on the floor. Rising carefully, the soldier smoothed his somewhat wrinkled clothes, retrieved his book, sword and jacket from various positions around the chair, and once more looked around the room. Aylwen, he noted, was talking to a man on the other side of the room, so he instead approached the petite young woman with the rolled up sleeves.

Bobbing his head courteously he smiled slightly nervously. "Good morning - is it possible I could get some breakfast please?"