Before you stands a girl of slight figure, dark hair, and emerald eyes; eyes which dart about the room nervously as though she were a hare being hunted. She calls herself "Fen", and it is difficult to discern her age, though you know that it cannot be more than twenty. The girl speaks as one from Breeland might, and claims to be from the town of Combe. You muse for a moment on why her face looks oddly familiar, but pay your thoughts little mind. Her voice is soft, though she seems unaccustomed to speaking in such a reserved tone, and her gestures are small and guarded; restrained.
{picture curtesy of Azalea's Lord of the Rings Scene maker ~ art not mine}