Raefinden. His nerves tingled to the sound of that name. There was something positively smashing about it! Positively smashing? Now, where on earth did that term come from? He knew he had reconnoitered it to his own working vocabulary quite some time ago, but he had absolutely no inkling from where.
So much was happening so fast in the common room of this Inn, it was hard to keep track of it all. So many people. Um, folk. It seemed to be the appropriate way to express oneself here. The rather grand elf lady and her three children, and the court she kept - if it could be called a court; she did seem rather queenly after all - were apparently headed for some place called Harad. It sounded desert-like. Yes, he was certain of it. How he knew, he could not say.
Red, or Raefinden, as it pleased him to name himself, decided that it was high time for him to busy himself in some way to pay for his room. He got up from his table and walked over to Morien.
"Sir, I would be most gratified if you would find some means of emp-" he stopped. The innkeeper looked at him blankly, as if trying to make sense of his grammar. Take care of your speech, Red he said to himself. "Forgive me." He bowed. "Please give me work, to pay for my room, sir."
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