[Elora]

Ronnan remained hunkered down, concealed behind the hedgerow and watching the patrons come and go at the White Horse. There was an interesting array, and the appearance of a green-tinged man was very entertaining to the otherwise dull matter of inspecting the area. Dull, but necessary as experience had proven in times past. He whiled the hours away behind the hedge until such time as his natural inclinations to caution had been satisfied. Caution only got one so far in his usual career and so he uncurled a lithe frame and stood by the empty road.

In a neat swing, he had cleared the hedge and skulked further up the road towards the inn. His ears gathered the sound of voices and laughter, many people who spoke in the raised register of amusement or the lowered one of serious matters. The hour of the day most suitable had arrived. It was the hour that most wanders had sought out ale and a comfortable seat to wind down after their day. It meant the most horses left tethered by the White Horse. It meant reluctance to venture out into the night whilst the fires continued to warm clothings and ale their stomachs. Ronnan also cheerily noted it meant plenty of conversation when he had concluded his business at hand also.

With an easy confidence he wandered through the horses with quick and curious hands that deftly moved across tack and gear. The horses snorted, tails swishing, ears flickering and heads tossing depending on their overall sociability. Here and there Ronnan found valuable tack, but lacking any place to safely stow it reluctantly left it on the horses. After 20 minutes of investigation, he dusted his hands off on his tunic and shook his head. Two days spent outside an inn, behind a hedge, and nothing of immediate worth. Slim pickings indeed, and he had missed the opportunity to sample the congenial hospitality within to learn this.

He swept a fall of dark hair back from his forehead and moved quickly to stop his losses as best he could. That meant stepping inside and enjoying the company of the owners of the gear he had examined. A gem here or there, and small pouches of money held no interest for him. Weapons were difficult to re-sell, particularly the valuable ones as they were invariably distinctively designed and had a reputation that included the rightful owner's name.

Still, he reflected as he walked through the door of the White Horse, he really could not have expected all that much. He had taken to Rohan after appreciating the need to see more countryside than that ably ordered by the law enforcement of Gondor. He was not here to work a job, although a small gain here or there would be nice. He was here on a well earned rest, and it was nice to have a measure of anonymity for a change.

He doffed his cloak, the once blue material now bearing signs of hard travel and hung it by the door. People, Men, Hobbits, Elves sat and stood around the commonroom. He was hardly elegantly garbed as he preferred to be for social occassions, but he would make do. Ronnan made his way to the bar. "Good Innkeep, a tankard of your magnificent ale if you please!" Ronnan flashed a charming smile along with his coin by way of payment and with tankard soon in hand turned to rest his elbows against the bar and survey the room just in case he had missed a Gondor soldier on furlough.