[Melichus]

Eledrim sidled slowly up to the entryway. Grasping the worn knob, he thrust inward and heaved a long, weary sigh, as if to say at last! The sigh had just escaped his lips when he drew in a sudden, hissing breath, taken aback by the scene that greeted him. What in the name of... In all his years of wandering the lands of Eriador and Rhovanion, rarely had he seen such a company as this: two elves (and one with a falcon perched on her shoulder), two skulking wolves, a sullen-looking boy, something that looked suspiciously like a wight, and--Eledrim nearly stumbled backward into the door at this point--that innkeeper from Gondor.

Striding stiffly toward Rimbaud's table, Eledrim narrowed his eyes, searching the man up and down. He started when the man suddenly glanced up from his book.

"I, heh, erm...you wouldn't happen to be the innkeeper I met in Gondor some weeks ago, would you? Rimbaud, his name was, if memory serves...no, no, it couldn't be. Sorry to have disturbed you." Eledrim had just turned to go when he felt a hand grasping the worn, canvassy cloth of his walking-cloak. "Or could it be him," he muttered to himself, turning around to face the man. Rimbaud was still peering up at him intently, but now a smug smile creased his face. His eyes narrowed craftily. "Perhaps you have been wondering, good sir, how the innkeeper of an inn in Gondor can bid you farewell on your journey as you leave his inn and be sitting at a table in a tavern in the middle of Rohan several weeks later, ready to greet you. Eh?"

Eledrim folded his arms, harrumphed several times, and glanced down at the man imperiously, trying to look as cranky as possible. "As a matter of fact, the idea did just happen to cross my mind, young fellow. Now, would you mind telling me what in the name of Eorl is going on before I do something unpleasant to that row of mugs on the counter?"

[ November 20, 2002: Message edited by: Melichus ]