Kaldir had watched the scene developing around the injured desert lady at the foot of the stairs with great interest, especially when the Ranger lifted her to carry her up the stairs. He watched closely to see if it was merely chivalry that he was witnessing or if there were some kind of attachment between the two of them. Seeing no special display of tenderness, Kaldir relaxed slightly. It would have been difficult for him if the lady in question had turned out to be the Ranger's lady. By principle, having once been a Ranger himself, Kaldir never troubled the Rangers or their ladies. It would be too much like taking down one of his own.
Once the group that interested him had disappeared into an upstairs room -- he was careful to note which room -- Kaldir looked for a chair that would give him a good vantage point over both the door to the room and the rest of the common room. Finding one, he settled in with his beer. Before long, the hobbit lady from the courtyard came back out of the room and began gathering up the desert lady's scattered packages. As she did so, she cast a wary glance in his direction. On a whim, Kaldir raised his beer to her in greeting, then pretended to look away, his attention drawn elsewhere. But he continued to watch her from the corner of his eye. She stared back at him for a moment longer, then turned and scurried back up the stairs. He decided he would have to keep an eye on her as well. Even hobbits who didn't look too bright were often sharper than than they appeared. This one appeared quite sharp to begin with and could turn out to be more than merely troublesome...not that she couldn't be dealt with, of course. He took another sip of his ale.
There was another one up in the room with the injured lady that Kaldir had previously not given much thought to. In his boredom while the door remained closed, he tried to recall what he could about her. She was an elf, by the look of her, tall and thin with long, pale, golden hair. When he had seen her earlier, he had catagorized her in with the Skittish ones. There was a high-strung nervousness about her that one generally did not see in elves, and her piercing blue eyes seemed to be perenially checking the shadows, the corners, the space behind her, as though certain that someday, at any moment, the shadows themselves might reach out for her. He had seen that look in the eyes of the hunted many times before. As usual, it piqued his interest. If she was running, then there was very likely someone in pursuit. And the Someone in Pursuit would very likely pay a good price to see her caught. Idly, he tried to remember what he had heard about fugitive elves. Usually the elves kept that sort of thing to themselves, to deal with themselves, but there was one he had heard about. A female. He looked up again at the closed door with renewed interest. Surely, this wasn't the Ravener's daughter.
Before long, a second elf woman, the one who had served Kaldir at the bar, climbed the stairs to join the group in the injured woman's room. She carried a large cup of herbal tea and a box. No doubt full of bindings for the leg, thought Kaldir. When she entered the room, she left the door slightly ajar, although it was not open far enough to afford him a view. A short time later, she came back to close it. As she did so, she looked directly at him. She nodded to him and smiled pleasantly, then closed the door with a resounding click of the latch.
[ June 18, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]
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