[Finwe]

Finwë's lips curved in a smile. It had been a very long time since he had been treated with this audacity. It was rather refreshing, considering that it was coming from a rather amusing-looking fellow.

"I didn't say my name. But since you seem so interested, I'll give it to you. The name is Finwë, Finwë of Lindon. And yes, you are welcome to have a bite of my apple."

Finwë shifted, and took out a dagger from his boot, laying it on the bar in front of him. The man standing next to him, obviously enjoying his apple, took the hint, and slunk back to his table. Finwë turned around and sighed. It was proving more and more difficult to get a decent bit of rest. And it was getting blasted hot in his cloak. Velvet was not the most practical of materials, especially in a hot, crowded Inn.

"Oh, bollocks," he muttered, and pushed back the hood of his cloak, revealing silky, jet-black hair, cropped after the fashion of the Dunedain, barely reaching the collarbones. His bright silver eyes scanned the room, almost challenging the other occupants of the Inn to confront him. He turned back to his ale, and took a few more gulps. As he was listening to the conversation of the other occupants of the Inn, he caught a few snatches of a rather interesting conversation:

"I may be royalty..."

"Royalty...?"

Finwë turned in the general direction of the conversation, and saw a woman clad in black, as if in mourning, and an Elven maiden. The maiden seemed somewhat familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. There was an elusive something about her features that tugged at his mind, but he couldn't definitely put a name to her.

"Hmm... interesting. Royalty is it?"

So Finwë decided to listen some more.