Hethan slipped into the inn and reached her hands up to her hood to pull it down. She looked around and tensed, disliking the amount of people in the inn. She ignored them as best as she could and walked to the bar. Barliman looked at her with his usual friendly smile.
'What'll it be, Hethan?'
Hethan smiled, glad he remembered her name. 'Soup would be great, if you have any.'
'Nob just helped me make a new pot of it. Fresh bread too!'
'That sounds lovely.'
'As the Lady wishes.' He winked and turned from the bar and gathered up Hethan's meal in the blink of an eye. '14 copper pieces.'
Hethan placed the coins in Barliman's hand and thanked him kindly before searching for a free space at the tables.
She found one, at last, though it was already mostly full. A few Elves and Men sat chattering in hushed voices and drinking wine. Hethan gripped her bowl tightly.
'May I sit here?' She asked timidly.
The Elf nearest smiled at her and inched over. 'Always space for a kinswoman!'
A Man sitting on the other side glared at him. 'She has no business in our conversation.'
'We can continue later.' The Elf waved his hand dismissively.
Hethan sat at the table and brought the bowl to her lips. She closed her eyes and smiled, feeling the warmth flow through her.
'Lady?'
Hethan looked up suddenly.
'Sorry?'
'I asked your name, Lady.' The Elf smiled down at her.
'Oh! Sorry… my name is Hethan.'
'I am Zargodon. You can call me Zarg, if it is easier. Where do you hail from?'
'Imladris.' Hethan took another sip of soup. She looked bitterly at the bowl. She had forgotten to ask for bread! Oh well…
'I grew up there myself.'
'Oh? I am returning soon, I haven't been for many years and …' she trailed off, not feeling the need to tell another her life story.'
'Return! That is not a good idea, for a young Lady such as yourself, Hethan!'
'So I've been told.'
'The roads are most dangerous. A darkness has befallen them within the last century. Evil creatures wander, and as much as the scouts of Elrond push them back, they always return.'
'But... Then I cannot go home!' Hethan pushed her bowl away and lay her head on the table in despair.
'What is your weapon of choice, Lady?'
'Staff. My father taught me lore and spells.'
'There is a Master of Lore in the Scholar's Archives. He will help you increase your knowledge. I can fit you out with armour.' He said proudly. 'I have a large collection at my home - I am a tailor.'
Hethan raised her head. 'You would do that for me?'
'Only for a kinswoman!'
Hethan smiled, a joyful smile she had not smiled for many years. There was something wonderful about this Elf.
