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Niara
The maid seemed nice enough, obviously of Elven descent. Her grey eyes matched the still billowing sky, but held a kind earnestness that it did not. A few almost golden strands of her long hair slipped over her shoulder as she bent her head to her ale.
Niara was still ashamed that she had been caught unawares, and struggled to let it go...The maid new nothing of this internal struggle. And Niara answered softly, still praying for her long dormant smile to waken. "I--"
A tall figure, bathed and hidden in a cloak so black it could hide him from even the moon herself, swept across the room-- and into the corner directly across from her. His piercing eyes had met hers for a split second as he passed..
Regardless of this distraction, she continued without pause, her eyes never leaving the lady before her long enough to warrant disinterest. "I know not how long I shall stay." She said. "I may leave tonight... But for the moment, any traveling I might do is purposeless."
The Man in the corner sat, now with a pipe. Much as she had always imagined the great King Elessar had sat once, as a Ranger. She watched the server bring him an ale. His eyes were all that was visible from the black inside his cloak. Cold. Yet he was alone, much like herself.
But for the company of the lady with her, Niara would at once have retired into the shadowy comfort of her own cloak and hood. But she could not. She missed such times as she had had long ago. Parties around fires with cloaked figures....Mugs of ale...pipes and smoke...stars....
She pushed back a dark strand of hair, it had strayed across her forehead and caught itself on an eyelash. She had always lamented that they were so long, and almost unnaturally dark, they framed her blue eyes almost as if she had painted them like the evil men of an age past.
She took a sip of ale and, pulling her cloak closer around her, returned her attention to the lady --and The Man-- across from her...
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