The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"'Tis good to see you up and about, Saeryn. Come sit with us."

The words snapped Saeryn out of her short-lived reverie as quickly as would a slap. She looked around, wondering how she had managed to reach the common room so quickly when, last she knew, she had just been standing outside her own door. Attributing it (correctly, as it were) to her head being bruised, she shrugged off the lapse of awareness and met the eyes of Eodwine.

Perhaps I should not be in mixed company so soon... but maybe... maybe they will know who I am. She walked forward flinching a little but hiding it well. Her posture was as excellent as could be expected, and those at the table who knew of her lineage smiled to themselves at her noble bearing. She settled herself, spreading her skirts automatically around her, between Gudryn and Eodwine. Another pounding headache was springing to life behind her eyes, but she chose to ignore it.

The table looked at her, seeming to expect something. Turning a pretty shade of crimson, Saeryn looked down at her hands, cradled gently in her lap, and waited for someone to rescue her.