Herlion pushed dark bangs from his face impatiently, wishing that somebody would talk to him... he felt like an outsider in here, he did not live here, he had never been here. He had his beer, of course, and not his first, but he was beginning to feel as though he had consumed a bit too much alcohol in one day. Finally, slumping down onto the bench, half sitting, half lying, he fell asleep.
Herlion woke to find himself on the floor and under the table. Feeling utterly humiliated, though he didn’t know if anybody had seen him fall, he came back out, running one hand through his hair and straightening his clothes with the other. Deciding not to have any more drinks today, Herlion dropped outside for a quick breath of air, but came back in quickly, his stained cloak being not enough protection from the cold. He stamped his feet a bit to warm up again, and sat back down, still feeling like he was being ignored by these... he hesitated to call them people, as they were certainly not all human, but perhaps... these others. Foreigners, maybe. He didn’t see anyone who looked like they came from the South of Rohan, like him, but, then again, he could only see a few people, and could hear that the othe side of the bar was noisy and very much full.
[ May 15, 2003: Message edited by: GaladrieloftheOlden ]
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"Glue... very powerful stuff."
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