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Ledwyn did not know what to do. At home she never saw anyone with a "Lord" or "Lady" in front of their name, except from afar. It seemed as though the hall was packed with important people. She remembered a time when her grandmother, long gone now, told her tales about the lords of the land. Always do what pleases them, she always ended off, if you want to live peacefully.
"You speak truly," Ledwyn said. "The wind is especially cold this morning. I broke my fast already, but I would not mind some food again." She glanced around the room restlessly before turning to her companions again. Only then did she notice that one of them, the one who has not spoken yet, was an Elf.
Ledwyn has seen Elves before, from Lorien and Imladris, when they came through the Mark on their way back from Mundburg. The Queen Evenstar was of the Fair Folk, and it was said that King Elessar and King Eomer both enjoyed the company of Elrond Halfelven, and Celeborn and Galadriel of Lorien. But it was also known that, fair as this folk may be, they were also perilous. It was for a reason that all good men shunned Dwimordene: it was known that the sorceress ensnared travelers in her webs of deceit. Whatever the kings have done, no common people would be willing to walk right in to one of their traps.
Ledwyn edged away from the Elf, keeping her eyes down in fear that he will read her fear and mistrust. To busy herself she pulled Theolain close and ruffled his hair. I have naught to fear here, she told herself. But the old tales spoke stronger.
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