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If Elin had any doubts about approaching the hobbit, they were rendered pointless by his salutation. She was still not sure this was a good idea - he might not want to be reminded of the incident but she had no option but to speak to him. But what should she say? Even his rather formal greeting daunted her for a moment. She wondered what she should say in the absence of a surname - should she reference relatives she no longer had or places where she no longer lived? It seemed rather futile. When he said "just Al" she relaxed.
"My name is Elintiriel" she answered making a curtsey that brought her close to his level for a moment, "But I am called Elin. I wanted to make sure you were alright after your mishap earlier - I am sure it happens all the time but you seemed rather put out" she continued feeling that she shouldn't have started this conversation and she was getting deeper in with every word.
She gazed out across the common room seeking inspiration but only saw the disparate clientele, the bar, the door to the kitchen. Something clicked in her mind. Mithalwen had told her about the cook who had disappeared. Her name was Brandybuck too and despite all sorts of investigations and enquiries noone had much idea what had become of her. Elin checked herself before she raised a topic surely more sensitive than a spilt pot of ale and stood awkwardly by the hobbit's table. She might be ready for something stronger than a cup of tea by the time she extricated herself from this.
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