Ebonymist

Footsteps could be heard some brief distance to the left of the two -man and hobbit alike- as a newcomer stride into view.
No... make that two newcomers, on second thought; one was on horseback. The other led the steed, reins grasped tight in her fist.
The latter arrival was a woman of perhaps thirty years, a human by the look of her, tall for her gender and with the well-muscled phisique of one not unused to the stables, an aspect heightened by the fact that she wore riding leathers rather than the traditional skirts or gown. Her shoulder-length hair was bound up behind her head with a strip of black-dyed suede- and that hair, though she seemed not yet past the flower of her youth, was the color of steel. Not the dull gray that comes with age, but a brilliant metallic hue that caught what light there was and threw it back like a thousand tiny wires. Her head was turned from the two at present, as she was speaking to her companion.
The compatriot in question was clearly male- and for all his female friend's height, he was taller still. Were he standing upon the ground rather than perched upon his mount, he might have peaked nearly seven feet. Outfitted from neck to toe in a traveling cloak of charcoal gray, trimmed in blue, he was whipcord-lean, nearly thin enough to gain the term 'emaciated'. His skin held a corpselike pallidity to it; indeed, in places the whiteness was tinged with blue. His features were too thin and sharp to be considered handsome, framed by a mane of hair as dark as night itself. This mop was bound back into a simple horsetail. His eyes, as could be seen by the angle of his head, were as narrow and sharp as surgical steel. Their color only added to his strange demeanor, for they were a deep amber, overlaid with a distinct orange cast.

Having entered the stables, the two were now close enough to catch the heated conversation between Toby and Snaveling. Their own conversation stopped instantly as both pairs of eyes -unnerving orange-gold offset by mild green- turned toward them.
The woman set her jaw, reminding herself that it would be impolite to jump to conclusions. Not to mention foolish. But having heard the tail end of Toby's outburst, she couldn't help but be a trifle annoyed.
Such was, after all, her nature.
A soft thump behind her, followed by a hand resting itself on her shoulder, detracted the woman's attention before she could open her mouth to demand just what they were about. She glanced behind her, craning her neck up to view her odd companion, who was eyeing the two with a mild interest that bordered on ennui. Sighing, he spoke- and his voice was just as strange as the rest of him: hissing, barely above a whisper, like the winter wind blowing through the fallen leaves of autumn.
"Are we... interrupting anything?"