The Thane of Cranborne

The meadhall was lit, warmed and furnished for a welcome. Two pit-fires blazed with well seasoned birch, ash and oak. The tables hosted only a few of the townsfolk, but were laid out well. Upon the raised platform a man sat and a woman stood. Both were well dressed, and while their colouring differed it was clear when close enough they were kin to one another. "Wesaþ hāle!" The figure stood with a smile aimed at the new arrivals. The Thane of Cranborne was tall and clad in robes of leather and fur that hid the glitter of chain. "Welcome to Cranborne." He spoke in Westron for the benifit of any that didn't hold the tongue of the Mark. "I was told of your coming, come and chase the wind from your bones by the fires."