[Imladris]

Maethor quickly vanished into the gloomy shadows of darkness, eyes fixed on the ground starying at the numerous prints that were trampled on each other. It was like a tangible riddle with neither ending nor beginning and prints were hopelessly lost in the confusion. "Much like life," Maethor thought as he followed, seeking for a sign of the gelding or the faint print of an elvish maid -- fiend, he corrected himself dully. He knew that Vanwe wore the boots of a man and did not wear the fine clothing of an elf.

He skulked amongst the shadows, looking for a horse that carried two riders, or any sign that an elf was near. A crash of glass jerked his head to the side and he saw a drunken man reel from a room and collapse in the gutter. Maethor sighed in some annoyance and, carefully and cautiously making his way towards the man, saw that the liquor had knocked him out cold. Maethor uncorked his deerskin flask and emptied the warm, stale water onto the face and quicly disappeared into the shadows as the man gasped and looked about him, muttering jibberish in his confusion. "Better a shock than lying in the gutter like a swine," Maethor muttered as he saw that the inn was actually the Prancing Pony.

Quickly he entered and waited as his eyes adjusted to the merrily lit room. Amandur should be here, as well as Hanasian...a smile crossed his face. Maethor was fond of the old ranger and -- there they were. Amandur and another. He eased his way through the crowd and listened sorrowfully as he heard of Hanasian's departure. And then another elf lady slipped up to the pair and whispered of Naiore.

"The rangers Rauthain and Maethor will be here shortly, I think we should await their arrival then decide what next to do!" Amandur said.

"Then you have not long to wait," said Maethor with a smile. "Rauthain is busy checking the other gates to see if our serpent has appeared elsewhere since she was not seen in the eastern gate. I have glanced about the streets, looking for suspicious activity and, alas, I have seen nothing." Maehtor's smile faded as he drew a chair to the table and flopped into it, his dagger making a slight clinking sound. He ran his fingers through his hair and said, "Well met, Dulrain. I am Maethor and a I plead your forgiveness for not introducing myself sooner."

[ October 01, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]