[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

A faint chill hit the corridor as the door swung open. A couple of people hurrying hither and thither shot quick glances at the newcomer and promptly scurried away out of sight. A black cat bolted from its hiding place and disappeared into one of the far rooms. For a fleeting moment, the atmosphere was taut.

As Ciro entered the inn proper his thoughts needed collecting, and quickly. The Green Dragon was as charming as the taverns he had frequented when he was a young man, and one look at the array of fine ales on the tables and at the bar assured him that this was as adequate a location as might be. However, the looks directed at him by the clientele were interrogative enough to make him bow his head. He hoped the glares were only a consequence of his less than stellar appearance: he was pale and rather gaunt after the roads he had taken recently. Whatever the reason, his wish to remain inconspicuous had been denied.

Despite this trouble, Ciro was eagerly checking every corner of the room with his piercing blue eyes. A diverse parade of characters occupied the room; and it was light and warm inside the Green Dragon. Something was missing, though. The inn was devoid of the one thing Ciro had wanted to find within its walls. For an instant his hope flickered, and Ciro felt a growing sense of vulnerability.

So he was relieved to hear the sound of breaking glass as someone on the other side of the room knocked over a pint. All eyes were off Ciro for the moment, and he gratefully escaped from the entrance to an empty booth. He had finally made it to the Green Dragon, and here he would now have to wait.