Annalalaith stepped into the inn; she had had a long journey behind her. Her mud spattered cloths were hanging limply about her for the rain and her cloak had not done much for keeping her dry. She shook off the cloak, as it stuck to her other layers of clothing as she waked to the bar. Her long dirty blond hair hung limply about her obvious Elvin features. But her keen steal blue eyes were bright as ever, and always attentive to the smallest action, or beauty that could be found.
Although this place was small, being made for Hobbits, she liked it. She noticed the other patrons sitting at their drinks and food and wondered what they were thinking. After ordering what ever the nightly meal was and some ale she sat in a corner by herself. Took out an old battered book, pages covered in drawings and sketches, which she started to flip through, taking a sip from her mug now and again, she pondered the events of the last time she had come.
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