The White Horse Inn, Act II

[Imladris]

Jarlyn

Jarlyn’s eyes narrowed eyes at the smiling Sigrid. The babbling wench did not know anything. A thin, toothless smile appeared on his face and he said, “And if the Innkeeper went away or harm befell her, who would take care of this…fine…inn?”

Sigrid glanced up at him, her mouth open, brows furrowed. Flashing a broad grin at her, he said, “A rhetorical question of course, missy.” He drummed his fingers upon the wooden edge of the tub.

Laughing a little, Sigrid said, “Well, that would be Aylwen, the Assistant Inn-keeper. I don’t know where she is now,” she added with a backwards glance over her shoulder before she plunged a cumbersome sheet into the water and renewed her scrubbing.

“So there was a fire in the stable, eh?” he asked, remembering why Sigrid was here. He looked over her again: the petit broad was hardly the type to drop all to dowse a fire. “Do you know the rogue who did it?”

Sigrid shook her head, a wisp of blonde hair falling in her eyes, and, with a shrug of her shoulders said, “Not that I’ve heard leastways.”

With a sigh, he glanced towards the Inn, and then back to the dame. He considered asking her how this Aylwen lass looked, but he doubted she could even answer that question. “Well, lassie…Sigrid, I best be driftin’ off.” Pushing himself from the tub he sauntered back towards the inn. Pausing in front of the door, he unbound his hair, and, eyes downcast and arms folded across his chest, he began to wander around the common room. Narrowing his eyes, he saw that the bar was empty and wondered which one of the women in the common room was the Assistant Innkeeper or the Innkeeper.