Elendor
A brief encounter
Frarin meets Rhifaroth for a short time just outside the Prancing Pony.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: At the Sign of the Prancing Pony
Game Date: October 12,1443
IC Time: Early evening
Weather: Overcast
Description:
Breelands Weather
The midnight autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The dark sky is overcast and dreary. The moon is above the horizon and in its last quarter phase.
At the Sign of the Prancing Pony
The Great East Road bends around the southeastern corner of Bree-hill. The Road leads away to the west and southeast, and where it sweeps past the foot of the hill there sits a large three storey inn. The inn is reached by a wide cobblestone pathway, with two wings that run back, away from the Road to the east, on land partly cut out from the hill's lower slopes. As a result, the rear second-floor windows of the inn are level with the ground. A wide arch leads to a courtyard between the two wings. Above the arch is a lit lamp and beneath it swings a large signboard: a fat white pony rearing up on its hind legs.
Contents:
Rhifaroth
Bree's Wormhole - Exit
Obvious exits:
Cobblestone Pathway leads to Before the Prancing Pony.
Broad Way leads to Broad Way - North Bree.
Market Way leads to Bree Market - North.
SouthEast leads to GER: Centre of Bree.
West leads to Great East Road.
[Frarin] Supper time it is in the town and the air smells of it. Though the evening sky is overcast and dreary and darkens with the lengthening shadows, Bree itself seems cheery enough. Smoke wisps away from chimneys to lay the smell of woodsmoke upon the town and other tantalising scents of food and drink waft from the buildings where the folk of Bree take their dinner. And of no place is this truer than at the Prancing Pony.
The inn has attracted a crowd this evening, as all evenings, and noise emanates from within. One of those seeking their supper at the Pony is Frarin the Dwarf, who seems as grateful of an escape from the Healing House as for a hearty meal. Down the Broad Way he comes, clad in a light tunic and vest. He walks with the support of two walking sticks, each bound to his wrists with a length of twine, and puts very little weight on his left leg. His eyes are ever upon the ground, seeking sturdy placement for his supports in order to avoid a painful stumble, and he moves slowly but steadily.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Someone else comes down from the direction of Bree Hill and takes to the street, coming up from behind the labouring dwarf. The crowd ahead though seems to be his focus and the man slows his own pace, wary of it.
Not at once paying Frarin any particular attention, Rhifaroth draws his own hood forward a bit further to keep his face shadowed. With long bow and mostly empty quiver case thrown over his back, the man begins to try and find a way around the throng who gather outside of the Prancing Pony.
It is as he is having to side step around a short, wide, hobbling and injured looking figure that the tall man glances at the Dwarf and then does a double take, "Frarin?" The voice is low, familiar, and surprised.
[Frarin] On Frarin labours, carefully manuvering to avoid loose pebbles or old cobblestones. His head comes up briefly as he nears the mulling crowds at the sign of the Prancing Pony, but as his gaze begins to drop again, a familiar voice softly utters aloud his name. Frowning and lifting his brows, the dwarf comes to an awkward halt and glances around him before catching sight of the hooded figure just behind.
For the barest of moments, Frarin's face shows the strain of his hobbled gait, and perhaps something else, but then a surprised half-smile breaks the shadowed visage. "Master Southron," the dwarf rumbles, still taken aback but apparently pleased.
"You are already back in Bree? I had not expected to see you before our departure."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
With a wary glance for those still ahead of them in the street, and those who may be coming and going behind, Rhifaroth inclines his hooded head - though he almost winces at the title of address. Still, he manages something of a thin smile himself and looks the silver smith over carefully, "I rather expected that you and yours would be long gone ere my return, aye."
With a gesture to indicate moving out of the middle of the street, the tall man moves aside and glances back to see if Frarin will come. It being less likely that they will be jostled by passers by.
"I suppose I should not be surprised.." and keeping his voice low, his mouth turns down in a grimace, "Bones take time to mend - longer than the three weeks or so I was away. Are all your folk still in town, then?"
[Frarin] Grasping the two supports firmly, Frarin slowly picks his way after the man, only narrowly avoiding a hurrying hobbit, who the dwarf regards with a grunt. When the two are more removed from the hustle, Frarin takes up a more comfortable position, shifting his weight to his right leg and balancing himself with the canes. The left stick hangs by its loop from his wrist as his left hand rises and wipes a hand across his brow.
"No indeed," he rumbles in response to Rhifaroth, once he is steadied. "Though I am one of the last patients left up at the House. My chest and arm are healed, if yet to regain full strength. But it is difficult to travel until my hip is better prepared. Not long now, I imagine." Lifting his eyes to the east, Frarin waves a hand in that direction. "Several of our company are departed to the east, to recover some of our goods abandoned many months ago before we rode for Bree. But when they return, I believe our intention is to winter with our brethren in the Blue Mountains."
He looks back to Rhifaroth, eyeing the man a moment before lowering his voice. "But what brings you back to Bree, friend? I cannot help but notice you seem less easier than usual amidst the crowd."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
For his own part, Rhifaroth leans against the outter wall of what would be the inn's stables on the other side. He watches the folk moving around them in the street and listens to the silver smith, giving an absent nod of his head, "Blue mountains..." he frowns faintly and looks back at Frarin, "Aren't those in the west? Seems the wrong way to go, to head back to your home."
Frarin's lowered question of himself gains no response for a moment. Watching the crowd again in the growing dimness as dusk has settled into the evening, he finally shrugs, "Just some folk around I'd rather not run into. Or know what I was about, friend."
A return of that thin smile as the man glances back to Frarin, "Is Thari then, also better?"
[Frarin] "They are," Frarin nods, confirming Rhifaroth's placement of the Blue Mountains. "But they are the western-most home of the dwarves, the only stronghold of our people now left west of the Misty Mountains. We cannot hope to cross the Misties before winter. But more than that, there are those within our company who crave the comfort of dwarven halls, even if they are not our own. It would do well to relieve the strain and burden of this past summer, for we number now only seventeen and our original count was twice that."
To the man's next Frarin says nothing, though he does nod, not questioning Rhifaroth's purpose. But a hint of that momentary strain returns to the dwarf's face at the mention of Thari. Frarin gives another half-smile, but the expression does not translate to his eyes. "Yes, Thari is improved," he says. "He no longer resides at the Healing House and...I have not seen him much of late. But his hip was broken just as mine, it is difficult to cover great distance, even from the Pony to my own residence."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Frarin has regained the man's attention and he nods, "Aye.. I crossed the Misties myself last winter, in November. It was not pleasant, and at that time the High Pass was blocked so I had to backtrack and find another way." He does not elaborate if the blockage was snow or otherwise.
Rhifaroth watches the folk in the street for a moment before he adds, "I didn't intend to winter over in Bree this season, either. Not going to be very pleasant." But he dismisses it with a gesture and a thin smile, "Doesn't matter. It will be good for you to see your folk in the west. And then perhaps you'll pass through here in the spring." There is no further comment about Thari, the man and the healer not usually having been on as good a terms as he and Frarin.
[Frarin] "Ah yes, the High Pass," Frarin echoes with a knowing nod, serious. "Yes, ever troublesome. Which is another reason our company does not yet go that way. Last I knew, the black garrison established there was no more, but even so, I should prefer to support myself upon my own two feet before risking that passage."
Digging the end of one of his supports into the ground, Frarin heaves a grunt. "A winter in the town is not so bad as other places, but then, I prefer Bree above many places. I have fond memories of it from many years ago in previous visits. Our company is now two years abroad, however, and even my traveller's heart yearns for the comfort of halls of stone. And that is not often." Here he gives a small smile, once again at ease.
"And yes, we should likely pass this way on our return in the spring. I imagine it shall be early in the season, so as be safely across the mountains, even if delayed, before next year. Will you be here still, do you think?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
There is a a grim nod for Frarin's comments about the High Pass from last winter, but nothing more. The Dwarve's rumblings about spending the winter in town gets a reply from Rhifaroth, "It was pleasant enough last winter in Bree. But I had coin to spend then, and could afford to stay at the Pony." There is a hint of that smile in self amusement, "There will be no such luxury this winter."
Frarin's last question elicits a shift in the man's weight as he continues to watch the street, "Perhaps." is all he says concerning the spring.
His head still cowled but the light now faded, the archer folds his arms over his chest as he leans against the building's wall, "Your folk will find crossing the river in the east ... challenging with the bridge out, and you with wagons." With a look back at the Dwarf, he smiles a genuine smile, "It was most entertaining 'assisting' the reminents of the uninvited host to cross back to the east."
[Frarin] Frarin nods heavily at Rhifaroth's comment about coin and wintering in Bree. Indeed, the dwarf sighs and lifts his brows with a smile as if fully aware of the man's words. "Indeed, in that you are not alone," he rumbles. "I do not know how our party intended to reach the place where our goods were stashed, with the bridge gone, but there was some pressing insistance on the venture. We turned our path aside in haste and now, many months later, a season with no new coin is affecting all, I think. If I am lucky, my own store of silver wares will not be beyond recovery, else I might make a good business in the Ered Luin."
The silver merchant's smile broadens slightly in step with Rhifaroth's own, and he too seems amused. "I should have liked to have seen that, and to have enjoyed aiding the host in their retreat. But alas, I know when the need is not pressing. Nay, the dwarves' next task will be the Last Bridge, I think. There are no stonewrights among us traders, but we are many descended from such stock. We may yet see the bridge repaired, for otherwise we must go further south, and the mountains above Hollin are not kind."
"Tell me, did you see the host as far as the Last Bridge? That is troll country. If we are to look to repairing the bridge, I would not wish to be plagued by the ilk of Moria as well."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
There is a chuckle for Frarin's simiular situation with lack of coinage from Rhifaroth, "I can at least hunt up my dinners through most of the winter. I dare say it would be amusing to see your folk trying to do so as well." A comment, perhaps, on their lack of bow use and ... questionable stealth.
"As for the bridge, if your folk are up to the task, there are some who might appriciate your efforts though few require it, aside from your own folk when coming through with your trade wagons. Still..." grey eyes slip back to the now thinning crowd outside of the Pony. Most have gone in by now who were going, and those few lingering without are just chatting among friends as they themselves are doing. "Bree wouldn't be the same if your folk didn't pass through anymore for lack of a bridge."
Frarin's last question draws back Rhifaroth's gaze, "Aye, and to the very foot of the mountains. They were not lingering in the Shaws, that wooded land just east of the river." There is a hesitation before the man adds, "There are folk in the area who would watch your backs while you did such repairs, myself included, Frarin. If I am around."
[Frarin] "Indeed, indeed," nods Frarin with agreement. "Repairing the bridge is as much a future investment as a means of getting home." He gives a half-smile. "I travel with only ponies myself, but the way must be made well for wagons if we mean to return."
The dwarf's brows rise again at Rhifaroth's last and he nods as if understanding. "Ah yes? The Rangers, do you mean? That would be well. Our company is too reduced to construct a new bridge and ward away our foes at once. I have not seen the men of the north since first I was sent with the wounded to Bree, but I suppose that is to be expected. They do not seem to me the sort to linger where there is no trouble. If you come upon them, give them the regards of our company. We were fortunate in our allies."
Frarin sighs and taps one of his sticks upon the ground. He glances towards the Pony, then nods back at Rhifaroth. "I beg you excuse me, friend. I do not wish to cut our meeting short, but I weary after a time upon my feet. And my supper awaits. I would ask you to join me, but I sense you do have no wish to enter upon the inn?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
"Even ponies need the bridge to cross, especially when laden." The man smiles, "And aye, I mean the woodsmen or Rangers if you like to call them, as well as ... other folk."
Rhifaroth pushes himself free from the wall, his own frame leaner and thinner now than in months past when Frarin had first laid eye upon the man. "Of course. Go rest, enjoy your meal, friend." Grey eyes flicker to the inn and then back to the Dwarf, "You sense right, Frarin. What coin I do have left is better saved against late winter when game will be hard to come by."
But he offers the other a parting smile and an inclination of his head, "Fare you well, silver smith. Perhaps I shall take you up on a shared meal and a tale or two in the spring." So saying, the tall man turns and begins to make his own way south, down the street... but not without a hesitation to look back to be sure that Frarin makes it into the inn safely, himself.
[Frarin] "And you as well, friend," says Frarin, nodding in an imitation of a bow. "Perhaps we shall meet again in the spring and see to the bridge. Until then, farewell and good fortune." He takes up his two canes once more and gently picks his way back to the cobbles beneath the sign of the inn. Before long he is gone, disappeared beneath the archway into the inn's yard and beyond that, to the comfort of the bustling common room.
Breelands Weather
The midnight autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The dark sky is overcast and dreary. The moon is above the horizon and in its last quarter phase.
At the Sign of the Prancing Pony
The Great East Road bends around the southeastern corner of Bree-hill. The Road leads away to the west and southeast, and where it sweeps past the foot of the hill there sits a large three storey inn. The inn is reached by a wide cobblestone pathway, with two wings that run back, away from the Road to the east, on land partly cut out from the hill's lower slopes. As a result, the rear second-floor windows of the inn are level with the ground. A wide arch leads to a courtyard between the two wings. Above the arch is a lit lamp and beneath it swings a large signboard: a fat white pony rearing up on its hind legs.
Contents:
Rhifaroth
Bree's Wormhole - Exit
Obvious exits:
Cobblestone Pathway leads to Before the Prancing Pony.
Broad Way leads to Broad Way - North Bree.
Market Way leads to Bree Market - North.
SouthEast leads to GER: Centre of Bree.
West leads to Great East Road.
[Frarin] Supper time it is in the town and the air smells of it. Though the evening sky is overcast and dreary and darkens with the lengthening shadows, Bree itself seems cheery enough. Smoke wisps away from chimneys to lay the smell of woodsmoke upon the town and other tantalising scents of food and drink waft from the buildings where the folk of Bree take their dinner. And of no place is this truer than at the Prancing Pony.
The inn has attracted a crowd this evening, as all evenings, and noise emanates from within. One of those seeking their supper at the Pony is Frarin the Dwarf, who seems as grateful of an escape from the Healing House as for a hearty meal. Down the Broad Way he comes, clad in a light tunic and vest. He walks with the support of two walking sticks, each bound to his wrists with a length of twine, and puts very little weight on his left leg. His eyes are ever upon the ground, seeking sturdy placement for his supports in order to avoid a painful stumble, and he moves slowly but steadily.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Someone else comes down from the direction of Bree Hill and takes to the street, coming up from behind the labouring dwarf. The crowd ahead though seems to be his focus and the man slows his own pace, wary of it.
Not at once paying Frarin any particular attention, Rhifaroth draws his own hood forward a bit further to keep his face shadowed. With long bow and mostly empty quiver case thrown over his back, the man begins to try and find a way around the throng who gather outside of the Prancing Pony.
It is as he is having to side step around a short, wide, hobbling and injured looking figure that the tall man glances at the Dwarf and then does a double take, "Frarin?" The voice is low, familiar, and surprised.
[Frarin] On Frarin labours, carefully manuvering to avoid loose pebbles or old cobblestones. His head comes up briefly as he nears the mulling crowds at the sign of the Prancing Pony, but as his gaze begins to drop again, a familiar voice softly utters aloud his name. Frowning and lifting his brows, the dwarf comes to an awkward halt and glances around him before catching sight of the hooded figure just behind.
For the barest of moments, Frarin's face shows the strain of his hobbled gait, and perhaps something else, but then a surprised half-smile breaks the shadowed visage. "Master Southron," the dwarf rumbles, still taken aback but apparently pleased.
"You are already back in Bree? I had not expected to see you before our departure."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
With a wary glance for those still ahead of them in the street, and those who may be coming and going behind, Rhifaroth inclines his hooded head - though he almost winces at the title of address. Still, he manages something of a thin smile himself and looks the silver smith over carefully, "I rather expected that you and yours would be long gone ere my return, aye."
With a gesture to indicate moving out of the middle of the street, the tall man moves aside and glances back to see if Frarin will come. It being less likely that they will be jostled by passers by.
"I suppose I should not be surprised.." and keeping his voice low, his mouth turns down in a grimace, "Bones take time to mend - longer than the three weeks or so I was away. Are all your folk still in town, then?"
[Frarin] Grasping the two supports firmly, Frarin slowly picks his way after the man, only narrowly avoiding a hurrying hobbit, who the dwarf regards with a grunt. When the two are more removed from the hustle, Frarin takes up a more comfortable position, shifting his weight to his right leg and balancing himself with the canes. The left stick hangs by its loop from his wrist as his left hand rises and wipes a hand across his brow.
"No indeed," he rumbles in response to Rhifaroth, once he is steadied. "Though I am one of the last patients left up at the House. My chest and arm are healed, if yet to regain full strength. But it is difficult to travel until my hip is better prepared. Not long now, I imagine." Lifting his eyes to the east, Frarin waves a hand in that direction. "Several of our company are departed to the east, to recover some of our goods abandoned many months ago before we rode for Bree. But when they return, I believe our intention is to winter with our brethren in the Blue Mountains."
He looks back to Rhifaroth, eyeing the man a moment before lowering his voice. "But what brings you back to Bree, friend? I cannot help but notice you seem less easier than usual amidst the crowd."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
For his own part, Rhifaroth leans against the outter wall of what would be the inn's stables on the other side. He watches the folk moving around them in the street and listens to the silver smith, giving an absent nod of his head, "Blue mountains..." he frowns faintly and looks back at Frarin, "Aren't those in the west? Seems the wrong way to go, to head back to your home."
Frarin's lowered question of himself gains no response for a moment. Watching the crowd again in the growing dimness as dusk has settled into the evening, he finally shrugs, "Just some folk around I'd rather not run into. Or know what I was about, friend."
A return of that thin smile as the man glances back to Frarin, "Is Thari then, also better?"
[Frarin] "They are," Frarin nods, confirming Rhifaroth's placement of the Blue Mountains. "But they are the western-most home of the dwarves, the only stronghold of our people now left west of the Misty Mountains. We cannot hope to cross the Misties before winter. But more than that, there are those within our company who crave the comfort of dwarven halls, even if they are not our own. It would do well to relieve the strain and burden of this past summer, for we number now only seventeen and our original count was twice that."
To the man's next Frarin says nothing, though he does nod, not questioning Rhifaroth's purpose. But a hint of that momentary strain returns to the dwarf's face at the mention of Thari. Frarin gives another half-smile, but the expression does not translate to his eyes. "Yes, Thari is improved," he says. "He no longer resides at the Healing House and...I have not seen him much of late. But his hip was broken just as mine, it is difficult to cover great distance, even from the Pony to my own residence."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Frarin has regained the man's attention and he nods, "Aye.. I crossed the Misties myself last winter, in November. It was not pleasant, and at that time the High Pass was blocked so I had to backtrack and find another way." He does not elaborate if the blockage was snow or otherwise.
Rhifaroth watches the folk in the street for a moment before he adds, "I didn't intend to winter over in Bree this season, either. Not going to be very pleasant." But he dismisses it with a gesture and a thin smile, "Doesn't matter. It will be good for you to see your folk in the west. And then perhaps you'll pass through here in the spring." There is no further comment about Thari, the man and the healer not usually having been on as good a terms as he and Frarin.
[Frarin] "Ah yes, the High Pass," Frarin echoes with a knowing nod, serious. "Yes, ever troublesome. Which is another reason our company does not yet go that way. Last I knew, the black garrison established there was no more, but even so, I should prefer to support myself upon my own two feet before risking that passage."
Digging the end of one of his supports into the ground, Frarin heaves a grunt. "A winter in the town is not so bad as other places, but then, I prefer Bree above many places. I have fond memories of it from many years ago in previous visits. Our company is now two years abroad, however, and even my traveller's heart yearns for the comfort of halls of stone. And that is not often." Here he gives a small smile, once again at ease.
"And yes, we should likely pass this way on our return in the spring. I imagine it shall be early in the season, so as be safely across the mountains, even if delayed, before next year. Will you be here still, do you think?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
There is a a grim nod for Frarin's comments about the High Pass from last winter, but nothing more. The Dwarve's rumblings about spending the winter in town gets a reply from Rhifaroth, "It was pleasant enough last winter in Bree. But I had coin to spend then, and could afford to stay at the Pony." There is a hint of that smile in self amusement, "There will be no such luxury this winter."
Frarin's last question elicits a shift in the man's weight as he continues to watch the street, "Perhaps." is all he says concerning the spring.
His head still cowled but the light now faded, the archer folds his arms over his chest as he leans against the building's wall, "Your folk will find crossing the river in the east ... challenging with the bridge out, and you with wagons." With a look back at the Dwarf, he smiles a genuine smile, "It was most entertaining 'assisting' the reminents of the uninvited host to cross back to the east."
[Frarin] Frarin nods heavily at Rhifaroth's comment about coin and wintering in Bree. Indeed, the dwarf sighs and lifts his brows with a smile as if fully aware of the man's words. "Indeed, in that you are not alone," he rumbles. "I do not know how our party intended to reach the place where our goods were stashed, with the bridge gone, but there was some pressing insistance on the venture. We turned our path aside in haste and now, many months later, a season with no new coin is affecting all, I think. If I am lucky, my own store of silver wares will not be beyond recovery, else I might make a good business in the Ered Luin."
The silver merchant's smile broadens slightly in step with Rhifaroth's own, and he too seems amused. "I should have liked to have seen that, and to have enjoyed aiding the host in their retreat. But alas, I know when the need is not pressing. Nay, the dwarves' next task will be the Last Bridge, I think. There are no stonewrights among us traders, but we are many descended from such stock. We may yet see the bridge repaired, for otherwise we must go further south, and the mountains above Hollin are not kind."
"Tell me, did you see the host as far as the Last Bridge? That is troll country. If we are to look to repairing the bridge, I would not wish to be plagued by the ilk of Moria as well."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
There is a chuckle for Frarin's simiular situation with lack of coinage from Rhifaroth, "I can at least hunt up my dinners through most of the winter. I dare say it would be amusing to see your folk trying to do so as well." A comment, perhaps, on their lack of bow use and ... questionable stealth.
"As for the bridge, if your folk are up to the task, there are some who might appriciate your efforts though few require it, aside from your own folk when coming through with your trade wagons. Still..." grey eyes slip back to the now thinning crowd outside of the Pony. Most have gone in by now who were going, and those few lingering without are just chatting among friends as they themselves are doing. "Bree wouldn't be the same if your folk didn't pass through anymore for lack of a bridge."
Frarin's last question draws back Rhifaroth's gaze, "Aye, and to the very foot of the mountains. They were not lingering in the Shaws, that wooded land just east of the river." There is a hesitation before the man adds, "There are folk in the area who would watch your backs while you did such repairs, myself included, Frarin. If I am around."
[Frarin] "Indeed, indeed," nods Frarin with agreement. "Repairing the bridge is as much a future investment as a means of getting home." He gives a half-smile. "I travel with only ponies myself, but the way must be made well for wagons if we mean to return."
The dwarf's brows rise again at Rhifaroth's last and he nods as if understanding. "Ah yes? The Rangers, do you mean? That would be well. Our company is too reduced to construct a new bridge and ward away our foes at once. I have not seen the men of the north since first I was sent with the wounded to Bree, but I suppose that is to be expected. They do not seem to me the sort to linger where there is no trouble. If you come upon them, give them the regards of our company. We were fortunate in our allies."
Frarin sighs and taps one of his sticks upon the ground. He glances towards the Pony, then nods back at Rhifaroth. "I beg you excuse me, friend. I do not wish to cut our meeting short, but I weary after a time upon my feet. And my supper awaits. I would ask you to join me, but I sense you do have no wish to enter upon the inn?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
"Even ponies need the bridge to cross, especially when laden." The man smiles, "And aye, I mean the woodsmen or Rangers if you like to call them, as well as ... other folk."
Rhifaroth pushes himself free from the wall, his own frame leaner and thinner now than in months past when Frarin had first laid eye upon the man. "Of course. Go rest, enjoy your meal, friend." Grey eyes flicker to the inn and then back to the Dwarf, "You sense right, Frarin. What coin I do have left is better saved against late winter when game will be hard to come by."
But he offers the other a parting smile and an inclination of his head, "Fare you well, silver smith. Perhaps I shall take you up on a shared meal and a tale or two in the spring." So saying, the tall man turns and begins to make his own way south, down the street... but not without a hesitation to look back to be sure that Frarin makes it into the inn safely, himself.
[Frarin] "And you as well, friend," says Frarin, nodding in an imitation of a bow. "Perhaps we shall meet again in the spring and see to the bridge. Until then, farewell and good fortune." He takes up his two canes once more and gently picks his way back to the cobbles beneath the sign of the inn. Before long he is gone, disappeared beneath the archway into the inn's yard and beyond that, to the comfort of the bustling common room.
Players: Frarin, Rhifaroth
