The Vineyard Tavern

[Ealasaide]

"About me?" Rochadan caught the sparkle of mirth in Kellan's eyes and smiled in spite of himself. “There’s really not much to tell,” he said pleasantly, leaning on one rung of the ladder. “I used to be a long-distance messenger, delivering mail and dispatches from Esgaroth to wherever they needed to go. Now I take care of the horses here at the Vineyard. But, as far as your keeping me from my work, please don’t worry yourself. We haven’t many guests right now, so there really isn’t that much to do... other than fix this ladder.” He cast a dubious glance up at the broken rung.

“Thank you,” Kellan answered with a smile of her own. “But I hope you will tell me if that changes and you do find yourself with more pressing things to do. As I said, I would enjoy talking a bit, but am fine with parting as well.” She paused. “As far as your story goes,” she added after a few seconds of comfortable silence had passed. “I’m sure there must be more to it than that!”

“Well, yes.” Rochadan nodded. “There always is more to a story than one initially tells, isn’t there? Actually, for the moment, I am more interested in hearing the rest of your story than gabbing on about myself. I’m sure there is more to it, as well, than what you have told so far. When you say you come from a tribe in the Far South, would I be correct in guessing that you come from Far Harad? What brings you this far north? That’s a very long journey, especially to be made on foot and all alone but for the company of your dog.”

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Yes, you are correct. I do come from the lands of Far Harad," Kellan remarked, nodding slowly. "And yes, it was a very long journey, and some part of it made without Grimm. I took the Harad Road to go north, for I was meaning to meet someone in Minas Tirith...someone who also watched the stars. However, I took some sort of wrong turn, I suppose, and made it to Dol Amroth near the Bay of Belfalas. That is where I met Grimm. He, a lone hound wandering where the folk of that town buried their dead and I, a wandering girl who had taken a road that did not lead to my desitation."

"You traveled all alone before that?" Rochadan asked, bringing a smile to Kellan's face without quite meaning to.

"Nay, I walked the roads with my brother. When we got to Minas Tirith, his plan was to part with me and take up jobs and lodgings there, for his dreams were never in the heat of the south lands," Kellan replied, her smile still bright and Rochadan's eyes still questioning. "He was the one who got us lost. In any case, I stayed in Minas Tirith with Grimm for near to a month, talking and studying and watching stars with the stargazer. He was such a funny man, and rather more obsessed than I am about the stars. One day he suggested that I see the view farther north, and he gave me the name of a friend of his, a man in Dale who might take me in and speak of the stars with me. I have not found him yet, and I think that perhaps tragedy befell him in the attack last year."

"That is quite a story, Miss Kellan," Rochadan murmured, looking back now and then to check on his little girl and make certain that she did not get into mischief.

"A long one, I'm afraid, and I apologize if I took too much of your time," Kellan replied ruefully and honestly. "And I must thank you once again for offering to take your time to fix the ladder."

[Ealasaide]

Rochadan laughed rather sheepishly and cast another look at the loose rung of the ladder. "Really, it's no trouble at all about the ladder. I should have fixed it months ago." He tipped it away from the wall in preparation to take it away for the necessary repair, then stopped. "Thank you for sharing your story," he added. "And pardon me for prying. It's just that I have never gone so far south as Harad and tales of the place interest me. Now... if there is anything you would like to know of Esgaroth or the Dale, please ask. Perhaps I could help regarding this stargazer you seek."

"I'm sorry if I seemed a bit abrupt in terms of my own story," he continued after an awkward pause. "I'm just not accustomed to talking much about myself. I never know what to say exactly. If you have any questions, though, please feel free to ask. And about the inn as well. I don't know how long you plan to stay in Esgaroth, but I think you will find the people here at the inn are a good lot."

"Finian will take good care of both you and Grimm," he finished with a smile, not wishing for the conversation to end just yet, but not quite sure how to prolong it either. As it was, he felt as though he was reaching for straws. He never had been any good at talking to women, especially not pretty ones, and had a way of coming across as either awkward or aloof, depending on how much of an effort he was making at getting along. Kellan interested him with all her talk of Harad and roof-climbing and star-gazing, but he had a feeling that, if he wasn’t careful, he was soon to pass directly through awkward into stupid. Finally, he sighed. He should just give it up and fix the ladder. Let the lady go about her business.

Just then, he felt a small tug at his pants leg. “Papa, does the doggie bite?” Sallie had limped over while he was talking with Kellan and now stood beside him with one little arm wrapped tightly around his knee. The other hand pointed at Grimm.

Instinctively, Rochadan reached down with one hand and smoothed the child‘s hair. “My daughter, Salaidhwyn,” he said to Kellan by way of a quick introduction. Then, he spoke to Sallie. “This is Miss Kellan, Sallie. Grimm is her dog. Perhaps you should ask her if the doggie bites.”

Sallie slid shyly behind his leg, not taking her eyes off of the big black dog for a second. “Miska-lyn,” she said finally to Kellan, peeking around the edge of her father‘s trouser leg. “Does the doggie bite?”

[Esgallhugwen]

The blonde headed Elf looked at his wet boots then at the bag of his belongings, he opened it to be sure it was indeed waterproof and that his things were indeed dry. He nodded his head with satisfaction and closed his eyes.

"May I help you, good sir?"

The Elf cocked his head upwards with one glimmering blue eye open as he met the young man's gaze, he then opened his other eye and smiled. He stood up and greeted him nonchalantly, ignoring both the fact that he was soaking wet and that the Innkeeper was trying not to laugh because of it.

"Ah, you must be the Innkeeper, if its not at all a trouble could I bother you for a glass of wine, then perhaps a room with a hot bath if you have any available, I would prefer to get out of these wet clothes to allow them to dry properly" he said tugging on his tunic that was clinging to his chest.

It was then that he noticed an odd looking girl who was attempting to mimic his walk by following his wet bootprints. He gave her a strange look that was filled with both amusement and confusion.

She gave him a huge grin then continued to follow his footprints until she was standing next to the Innkeeper.

"They want to thank you for the water, for they were very parched except for that one", she pointed to a wet plank, "but he's always cranky, you can never satisfy him" she said with a tint of irritation and put her hands on her hips.

The Elf seemed bewildered and for a time couldn't figure if she was mad or just playing.

"Who wants to thank me?" he asked slightly puzzled.

"The wood planks of course, that one, that one, that one and that one" she pointed to each footprint, "but not that one" she shook her finger at it, "he's a grumpy one so be careful when you walk by" she cautioned then started on her way again following the bootprints back to where they started.

His brows furrowed for a few seconds then he returned his attentions to the Innkeeper who was shaking his head.

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry had let the two boys, Cynan and Andhun, look around the Infirmary, curious about all the little pots and vials and scissors and tongs and how many other implements and the herbs, some hanging to dry, scenting the air with a sweetish dusty scent and others bubbling slowly in a small pan over a small burner on a shelf. They began to imagine magic potents and secret spells and were almost on the verge of asking her about some of them when Finian had briefly stopped in.

Bethberry had quietly asked him about his sister, whose mind was her illness. Most people in the town were fearful of her and avoided her. Some even said evil was in her and had whispered amongst themselves that she should be shunned or sent away for the safety of other children. Bethberry did her best, whenever word of this came her way, to counter the ignorant fear, but it would be a long, slow process to enlighten some of those who were most fearful of difference, especially unexplained differences. When Finian left to attend once more to customers, the healer turned to the two boys. If she kept Cynan talking perhaps Andhun would be less shy of showing her his wound,s and talking about his injuries.

"Well, gentlemen, are you ready to apprentice with me? I have a special on this week. Find me three giant puffballs, a handful of toadstools, one eye of newt, four tadpoles, and the foot tracks of a spriggan, and you shall earn your status as 'prentice wizards, probationary." Bethberry's eyes twinkled as she said this and guided Andhun towards a long sort of narrow table, covered with a thin straw mattress which was wrapped in white linens.

She waited to let the boys answer before she handed Andhun a sheet to hold around himself after he removed his shirt. She hoped Cynan would talk about his mother.

[Imladris]

Finian shook his head and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "She's a strange one. Ever since I tripped over it once she's gotten it into her head that he's a grumpy old chap."

The elf nodded.

Finian swallowed and glanced at him. He had never been this close to an elf before. Of course, he had seen them from afar but they were just people then....not elves. Here he could see the fair faice, the golden hair that barely glimmered, the grace that made them glide rather than walk. "This way, Sir Elf," he said, gesturing him to follow.

Finian galumphed up the stairs and, after debating whether the west room or the east room, he decided on the latter. He had rumours of the elves leaving for the west and that must be depressing. He supposed that even elves needed cheering up. "There you go, Sir Elf," he said, as he began to make a fire. "I'll send one of the serving maids up with your wine. But, tell me, what is your name and how did you become drenched, thus so obligingly quenching the floor's thirst."