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Aniriel was siting at her table in front of a mug of ale. She felt better. Actually, better was not quite the word for it. There was a strange sense of euphoria inside her and she felt the need to do reckless things. Yet it was not so much because of the ale as because of the cheerfulness that surrounded her. She was so overwhelmed by it, that she had to restrain herself from shouting and dancing. Instead she got up, holding the mug in her hand, and said aloud:
"Kind lords and ladies! I have heard many travellers speak of this fair land. And they praised ever this inn and the courteous people that dwell here. And I must confess that I thought they were exagerating, as travellers much too often do to gain attention. But now, when I see with my own eyes the marvels of this place, I realise that none of those I have heard did you any justice!"
She sat down, amazed of her own daring.
"Now they will think that you are either drunk, either mad," a voice inside her head said. "And serves you right, Aniriel, for making such a fool of yourself."
Feeling her cheeks burning, Aniriel took another gulp, not daring yet to look at anybody.
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