[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aylwen took a bite of her fruit tentatively, for she wasn't entirely sure what it was. The sun was shining just above the market, and the sky was blue with few clouds in sight. Windheneb had taken to chatting with a few rather giddy or childish women, so Aylwen was left with only Castar and uncomfortable silence as he ate his fruit.

"Have you known Windheneb long? You don't seem anything alike," Aylwen commented, not sure what else to say. But it was true, Windheneb and Castar were quite different.

"Not long. In fact, I just met him and his sister earlier today. He sells clothing," Castar added, shrugging. Aylwen lifted a brow, and Castar shrugged again. "Are you from around here, Miss Aylwen?"

"No, I just arrived recently. I am from Minas Tirith, but my good friend Bethberry invited me to help her as Assisstant Innkeeper in the White Horse. And here I am!" said Aylwen cheerfully, extending her arms as a gesture towards the market and Edoras.

"I'm staying at the White Horse tonight! And you're the Assistant Innkeeper? And here I am selling pottery," said Castar, smiling. His friend Windheneb had no trouble making the flirtatious girls giggle behind the two, and Windheneb showed no signs of wanting to stop his conversation.

"Winny likes to talk a lot," Castar explained to Aylwen, who had turned to see Windheneb's back after a particularly loud bout of laughter. "To women, at least."

"Winny?" Aylwen reiterated skeptically, grinning. Then she noticed something protruding from Castar's pack. It was some sort of cloth. Aylwen eyed the cloth, then looked to Castar. "May I?"

Castar nodded, and handed her the cloth. There was something writted in old Quenya along the hem, and there was an intricate, delicate pattern along the front. Aylwen squinted her eyes at the Quenyan, then neatly folded the cloth back up and handed it back to Castar.

"What does it say?" Aylwen asked, referring to the Elvish written on the cloth.

"I am not cure, I do not speak Elvish...or read it, for that matter," Castar replied sullenly, shrugging. "I thought Windheneb might, since after all, his name is Elvish. But he doesn't! I carry it around the market a lot in case I see a stray elf that might be able to translate for me."

"Bethberry might be able to. She knows a lot of things I don't and probably never will. Then again, I'm not sure either," said Aylwen, remembering the face painter in the market. "I saw a person painting designs on children's faces earlier, and he painted something in Elvish on more than one occasion. At least I think it is Elvish. Then again, you can never tell anymore who knows what language and who doesn't know which language and whatnot."

Aylwen grinned, realizing she had taken to rambling again. She was so much better and singing her tavern songs than she was at making conversations with strangers. "Forgive me, but Castar is a rather strange name. Where is it from?"