[maikafanawen]

Wren smirked as the elf Einen took her seat. Why in the world did Rangar let her come? ‘Will you protect yourself by taking me, or will you make your death certain by choosing the fools option of letting me go on my way?’ Ha! Elf or no, she’s going to be an interesting companion. Wren got up and walked over to the counter, setting down her tankard for Butterbur to refill.

“Arrogant, that one,” said Wren a bit loudly to the innkeeper, nodding to the elf. Butterbur didn’t look, but instead whispered back.

“I wouldn’t choose one of their kind as an enemy. Distrustful folk they are. Keep your wits about you, and don’t let them see through you.” Wren guffawed.

“I’m sure. ‘Best shooter around for miles’,” Wren shivered. If there are any kinds of people that I can’t abide, it’s ignorant people, she took one more glance at the elf Enien, [/I]And arrogant people[/I]. She paid for her second drink and then retired to her room to pack her things up.

Discarding her skirt and blouse, she donned her traveling clothes of a white swordswoman’s shirt and a kelly green jerkin. Her pants were snug and appropriate for riding horses. But I don’t have a horse anymore, she thought regretfully. She decided to put on a pair of stockings as well to keep her feet warm should it rain. Then she pulled on her boots. Wren stood and took an approving look in the mirror, and rearranged her richly curled blond hair. She was indeed elegant looking even in a foggy mirror of an inn wearing clothes fit for a three-hour trail ride. Breathing deep, she gathered her things.

She had one good leather pack that held her change of clothes and some provisions. Three leather pouches hung from her belt. The first contained money, and the second held a few personal items such as jewelry and miniatures. The third held a whistle, a nocturnal dial, and flint stones. Tying her belt around her waist, she attached her frog that held her simple (but useful) sword. Wren didn’t have much for a long walking journey such as the one she had decided on going. On her way up she had a horse and a guide. Now, she had no horse, and was the guide. She laughed at the irony of the situation and left the room.

The common room was noisy again and most of the people who had decided on going were gathered around Rangar. Wren looked them over. It was a very colorful group: Rangar, A man and woman from Bree, two women from Rohan, a scholar from Arnor, a ranger, and an arrogant elf. Wren rolled her eyes. What have I gotten myself into?