No sooner had the door to the common room closed at the back of the twilight-clad man, than it opened again to allow the entrance of a tall maid dressed all in brown and a deep forest green. She wore a headshawl that had been pulled forward to veil the lower portion of her face, but the long-lashed and kohl-lined eyes that remained visible were bright. She hesitated just inside the threshold and let her gaze take in the inhabitants of the room.
There were no familiar faces amongst the assembly of men, hobbits, and elves, but that wasn't surprising to her. The one individual, a hobbit, that she had come there to see had already sent word that she would not be there. Undaunted, Benia Nightshade had decided to go to the Inn anyway. She had travelled many miles up the Greenway to reach Hobbiton and now believed that nothing would suit her better than a cold pot of ale and a good tale or two beside the fire.
Stepping up to the bar, she noticed that the barmaid - she believed she had heard her introduce herself to another as Aman - was already engaged in conversation with two individuals, a Ranger, Benia guessed by the look of one of them. The other she took to be an elf.
She could wait. If her father, Old Jack Nightshade, had taught her one thing in life, it was patience.
[ May 18, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]
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