[doug*platypus]

With measured grace, the innkeeper made her way around the assembled company, chatting to patrons and performing the myriad of tasks required to keep The White Horse running. As she neared the bard's tale she hailed him.

"My dear Dwarf-with-no-name, I know that Ballad of the Lonely Mountains. It has long been a favourite of mine. Will you play for your supper?"

Chuckling inwardly at the misnomer "Lonely Mountains", the bard was nevertheless pleased to find such fine treatment in a far land. Too often had he found strangers who were unfriendly to the dwarves for whatever reason. Sometimes this was because of the dwarves' own mistrust of the other races, but not in this one's case. Never a miner or a worker in stones or metals, and not strictly speaking a warrior, his profession was not always well regarded amongst his people. The bard could ill-afford to be picky of which races he associated with, and his travels had seen him make friends with many men or little-folk.

He mulled the suggested fee over for a few seconds, and then agreed to a meal and a pint of beer, as the price for the previous ballad and for another song or tale later. The innkeeper then moved on to the other guests. At the bar sat a very thin and nervous looking young man, who appeared to have some tale of woe. The dwarf listened in carefully as the innkeeper talked closely with him.

He managed to pick out the words, "Do you want to round up some of the patrons here, to track these murderers?" and as the innkeeper's glance strayed around the room, the dwarf developed a sudden interest in a richly carved rafter. Whistling casually, he continued to examine it until all chance of being singled out appeared to have passed. This week was, as it turned out, a most inconvenient one for him to be murdered in, and the dwarf was much more interested in the Search for the Book. He thought he would stay at the inn long enough to recover his vigour, and then head off immediately to join the quest.

One of the innkeeper's helpers shortly came around with a tray of ales. The dwarf's tired eyes lifted as he saw this, and he took one with a very hearty "thank you", trying not to seem rude for his reluctance to track down murderers.