The White Horse

[Airerûthiel]

Neisa sipped her drink idly and half-listened to the group's conversation. Already she felt she liked these people, despite not knowing so much about them. From the corner of her eye she could see someone new had walked into the inn, someone with the look of a lover of tales in his eyes. She debated talking to him, but he seemed to prefer his own company for some reason. Eventually she decided to ask Firramer something that had been preying on her mind for a considerable time.

"Forgive me for my asking this," she said, twisting a strand of her dark blonde wavy hair around her finger, "but why are such a strangely mixed group as yourselves wandering this Middle-earth together? Long years have passed since Elves, Rangers and Men of Rohan walked together as a band of friends."