Reynion looked at the ale with distaste. It wasn't that he mistrusted the quality of the beverage, it was that he never drank the stuff. Although wine, in his usual amounts, was probably worse for him.
"I haffn't caught youw names ye. Oops... Sowwy..." Morlathion repositioned the cloth. "I haven't caught your names yet."
"I'm Reynion," he answered. "This is Lira and her friend is Esgallhugwen. And you're Morlathion. I think the entire Inn must have heard you earlier." That wasn't too hard. If he could keep the conversation at this level, maybe there would be no need for more wine this eve. He shied away from that thought trend quickly. Then something Morlathion had said registered.
"You shot yourself in the hand with your bow!? How in Arda did you manage to do that?" He'd gotten no few nicks when he was learning his knives, and many bruises learning the sword (not that he could use it anymore anyway), but injuring one's hand seemed rather improbable.
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