The brief message is secured, and the last white dove flies away. The old man stands on the edge of the forest resting on his wooden staff, following them all with his blue eyes through the steam rising from his mouth as they are ushered north by the cold morning sunlight that flickers on the silver birchleaf-shaped pins the birds have upon their backs. Their wings shed winter upon the land with each swing.

He retires slowly to the safety of the Lady's kingdom's tree crowns, hoping that his message would reach them, for there is an ominous hand of the shadow grasping their hearts, and ill tidings are coming from the East. He sits on a high chair opposite of his hostess, and soon circles of weed smoke are swirling above his head.
”Thank you for the gift. A fine sword it is,” he says nudging the sheathed sword hanging from the chair arm.
The star on her finger flashes, and he coughs choking on the smoke.
”Forgive me, my lady; it has been a long time since I last saw one,” he says, rising his thick grey eyebrows at her Ring. ”Magnificent, the work of Celebrimbor. Yes, indeed...” He coughs once more before resting the pipe on his lower lip.
”You never change, Ofnir,” Galadriel replies with a smile.
The wizard stirs in his seat. ”I like to think I've become wiser in the past few years,” he says; ”and much better looking, too.”
Galadriel gets up, walks past him and, resting her hand on his shoulder, gazes from the balcony into the distance. His smoking ceases.
”I am glad,” she says suddenly,now looking at his face, ”that there is still someone left to jest in these dark times. Thank you.”
The wizard breaks eye contact and nods, looking at his feet.



After many a league of unfaltering flight, the weary doves sight each of the chosen ones' abodes; and, circling down in their tightening descent, land on a naked nearby branch, a cool well by the road, or in front of a window lattice beaten by the winds outside. And they wait.

Ellaryn woke up with a start, she was jittery as always. Five years of fleeing her ghosts has left left paranoid, more so as the loft she was sleeping in was not hers, and certainly was not paid for in rent. Good she thought silently to herself, still dark outside. her eyes caught a shape on the window sill, she doubled checked sqinting in the plae moonlight. Just a bird, she turned and gathered her things.

Best not to disturb the horses below, she thought and once all her gear was packed, she made her way to the window to climb down and leave. The bird did not moce, in fact it almost seemed to getting in her way deliberately. Els tried to shoo it away with a wave of her hand, the dove cooed. Ellaryn force at the sound, silently cursing her luck. The horses below remained silent. She sofetly breathed a sigh of relief and whispered quietly "Get out of here bird."

The dove was either brave or stupid, "No time left" she thought and realised that she needed to be gone. Ignoring the dove she grabbed the sill and climbed out the window, she had already seen how easy it was to climb the poorly repaired outer wall and had made in by the same route.

The dove however had decided to flutter on her arm as started out the window, and after shaking it off making her way down the wall, it had the audacity to fly and land on her head as she decended. Els wore a scowl to put the frighteners on any goblin that thought they were brave. She decened, chosing to ignore the bird and strolled off away from her latest sleeping abode.

Dawn rose, with the sun showing the barely adult hobbit woman walking with a white dove still on her head. no ammount of hand waving or shouting made it move more than a few feet away before it landed again. Once the sun rose it began to more annoying to Ellaryn, by peeking (just once at a time) the top of her head. "Give over bird, there be no worms in there." Els really couldn't take anymore of it. She finally stopped, with the bird still perched on her head, and routed through her backs for some titbit to offer.

Els took out a small dried biscuit from part of her rations, she broke a small piece off and offered to the dove and to her surprise it hopped onto her hand but didn't take it. She dropped her hand down, the dove looking at her, and spotted the note tied delicately to its leg. "Well now, you could have told me you had a message eariler." The dove cocked its head to ne side, as if to say "I did" and Els stared back before she gave up the biscuit fragment to untie the note. A silver pin fell out, which she quickly pocketed "Should get my some extra coin." she grinned at her good fortune, the stupid bird has delivered the message to the wrong person.



She fished the pin out and looked at it, and reread the note. "How did....? Who....?" flustered, she read the note again. Tears welled up, if it was true then she had a purpose, someone actually needed her for who she was. She decided there then to make her way as best she could. Collecting her gear she quickly strode back the way she came to the barn she slept in. Els didn't even notice that the dove only flew away after she had decided to follow the instructions.

Ellaryn hid close by and watched the barn patiently, the owner was up and about already turning out the horses in graze in a field. She silently crept to the barn, before making just enough noise not to scare the remaing two ponies there. "Have to be quick girl." She saddled a pony, the closest, no point spending time to choose and grabbed a bag of grain over calmly riding out. She was well out of sight before the farmer returned to have his breakfast and then tend his ponies.

Vamyr had been riding back towards Rohan via the North-South road since morning, though he had alternated between walking and riding every few miles to keep Fred fresh. He wasn’t in a great hurry anyway. Ultimately, he had found nothing. The king of Rohan was a mere shell of his former self, and where he scoffed the need to help, his people had become grim and withdrawn. Gondor would receive no aid from the Riders, and no one further north was close enough to offer any aid. Without anything favorable to report, haste meant little. There would be no help, regardless of his arrival on the morrow or in four moons.

He gently slowed Fred at a passing well and decided to take a moment to water the horse. The soldier first swished some water about his mouth to test the flavor of it before dumping a bucketful of water into the makeshift trough next to the well for Fred. They could probably take the time to camp in the next few hours, and reach Gondor in a week or so. He was readying to mount Fred and move on when a soft flap of wings marked the arrival of a small bird. It was the color that gave him pause though. White doves were a rarity in the wild. Slowly, so as to not scare it, the guardsman shook his foot free of the stirrup and approached the delicate bird carefully, though it didn’t seem afraid. The message tied to its leg stood out as it scooted closer along the well towards him, and Vamyr reached out to untie it, hands shaking. He hadn’t thought that the rangers had access to this kind of delivery, but to send something in this manner, it had to be of utmost importance.

He barely glanced at the silver pin that fell into his hand, instead reading the message aloud, to his horse.


”Well, looks like we aren’t going home afterall." He swung into the saddle and turned about, towards the north. It would be a hard travel to get there in time. There would be no rest tonight. He didn’t know who had sent the message, but he was going to find out.

Thurin trudged through the mountain pass, heavy cloak upon his shoulders and hair matted from the constant rain and elements. He grumbled to himself, his stout arms holding fast to the reins of his pony. Nearly slipping on some mud, he caught himself, and continued on inexorably forward. He coughed, and shook his shaggy head. Even his Dwarven constitution was wearing down after all these days of traveling and rain. He'd hardly slept, for this was troll country. He could tell his pony was getting exhausted as well. In a day or two, they'd crest the mountain and make it over to the Ered Luin on the western side of the Misty Mountains.

Without thought or deliberate consideration, he began to hum. It was 2nd nature to him, and it showed he was indeed very exhausted. For singing only came to him when he was very tried and at the end of his endurance, for it brought extra strength to his limbs.


They made it upon more flat ground, at to his good fortune, he found a cave, the words still streaming from his lips. "The world was fair, the mountains tall...In Elder Days before the fall..." He lead his pony into the small cave, sure it was small enough that no trolls or Goblins or fouler things inhabited it. He began to make a small fire. His words were now soft, but in a thrumming tune. "Of mighty Kings in Nargothrond, And Gondolin, who now beyond, The Western Seas have passed away,The world was fair in Durin's Day." He plopped down on his rump, and began eating the remains of a doe he had felled not two days before. It was then that the most unlikely visitor appeared. A little dove swooped in out of the grey mist and landed right at the mouth of the cave with a message. "What's this!?" he asked in surprise, but took the message without delay. There was an old race of Ravens that could understand the common tongue of free folk. Why not Doves?
He opened up the letter, and as he drank in the message he was initially skeptical. Not for its contents, but it seemed rather Elvish. But his sense of duty overrode his prejudice, and he nodded to the Dove. "Aye, I'll be there."

The young elven outrider rode north at a gallop atop her warm brown bay horse, her eyes locked upon the horizon. They almost always were, when she was out in the wild. Calariel's irises were fogged over, a light shade of pink, but from the focus she wore on her face, she could see clearly enough. Indeed, even if she couldn't make out the shape of the mount beneath her, the woods in the distance were perfectly clear. She could see a small rabbit making for his hole, frightened by the sound of hooves in the distance. The little creature was perhaps a mile off.

Calariel rode on, her auburn hair and light cloak whipping behind her. She'd reacted to the delivered letter as quickly as she could, but there had been some difficulty. The dove had found her easily enough, and she was able to ascertain from a distance that the bird carried a letter, but sadly, Calariel could not read the words, and thus she had to return to Rivendell, and meet with one of the perimeter guards who was willing to aid her. She forced him to read it twice for her, unsure if her ears had received the message properly. Someone had thought to seek her out personally for aid, on a mission to the north. Farther north than she'd ever been. Calariel was not overly fond of the cold, but this had the air of something important.

Before anyone could attempt persuading her to stay, she was off, having gathered what supplies she expected she would need. Her cloak was clasped with the pin that was sent, identifying her as part of a group. She wondered how many others there would be. If possible, she would need to identify them from afar, but what group would meet in such an open space? There was an undeniable worry. Don't make a fool of yourself...

Whoever had chosen to contact her obviously had belief in her skill. Calariel had her own sort of quiet confidence as well, but working with strangers and operating in an unfamiliar group was not something she was a natural at. But she had to believe they were good people being called.

The north was not a kind place, she knew. The good people there, well... they were outnumbered.

---

Hill after hill, hour after hour Aelin travelled the barren land. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going, and at the moment it didn't matter - It just felt right to go this way. He watched as the sun climbed to the sky, only to go back down as time passed. There were hardly any clouds in the sky, but the air was cold. The elf had been wandering south-west from Mirkwood a few days now, hoping to see the Misty Mountains, meet some locals and play his kantele.

Suddenly Aelin spotted a lone bird approaching him and his horse. He stopped on his tracks, extending his hand for the dove to land on.

"Now, what are you doing here?"

The elf asked, not expecting an answer. He quickly noticed the message the bird was carrying.

"Is that for me?"

Aelin carefully read through the wizard's message. After a while of thinking he gave the white bird a nod and watched it fly off to the same direction it had come from. The elf then picked up his pin for closer inspection - It looked shiny, old and somehow.. Magical. The message had told him to tie his cloak with it, but he decided to just attach it next to his own one.

"We're off to this village, then. I'm fairly sure Angfort is on the other side of the Mountains, so we'll have to find a way past them."

He made a slight turn to the left and doubled his riding speed. The message had clearly been written by someone of great importance, and Aelin didn't want to upset anyone like that. Being called to such a quest was an honor, and at least he'd have something better to do than roam around the wilderness and eat mushrooms. For some time.

Angfort. A remote village in a remote region. That band of homes on the ancient crossroads of the Kingdom of Angmar that now only farmers use: a place marked on the map with small characters almost unreadable. Not rarely a child would be born and die without seeing anyone other than the couple hundred of the fellow villagers. Although an outsider might deem this life sad and lonely, the Angfort folk are content there, far away from all the troubles of the world.

See Angfort. Early in the evening. The village streets already sleep, but from the windows a cat or a dog can be seen throwing a watchful eye at the snowflakes as they gently shower the cobblestone roads. Behind them burn faintly burn the remains of the wood in the fireplaces, and the owners stir their stews whence greasy smells rise. Bannerdills, Battleys, Mackens, Willbreds, and all the other families that make up that snug community are basking in the familiar warmth of their homes; and the handful of weary travelers in the inn, warming their guts with ale, beans and sausages that soak the crusty old bread, are exchanging boastful tales.

In the center of the village, in front of the mayor's (if he could be called a mayor) home, a rough iron cage hangs from a pole and swings around pushed by the winds; and in it a frail old man shakes in the elements, clad in nothing but a piece of cloth that covers his torso and thighs. It is hard to figure out whether the rattling is coming from his teeth or his torturous enclosure as he is struggling to grab a crow that mockingly feasts on old crumbs and seeds fallen off some vendor's cart. His arm is thin enough to pass through the bars that would give a child's arm trouble. His grimaces rapidly, his hand twitches, and he curses his own soul and his own beard.
''WHERE ARE YE?! OH, MAY THIS VERY CROW PLUCK ME EYES OUT IF I DON'T SEE YE SOON! WHERE ARE DA PINS?! COME, YE PIN-WEARERS, YA ROTTEN GOONS!'' he howls as a reproach is heard from within the mayor's house. ''IF ME POOR MOTHER SAW ME NOW! AND SHE DID WARN ME 'BOUT THEM BARMY WIZERDS! BUT OLE THOMBUD DID'T LISTEN!''

Ellaryn cursed her haste in leaving for Angfort, she should have known the north would have a far colder climate than she used too and she was ill prpared in her haste to arrive on time. On the outskirts of the village, with her blanket wrapped around herself, she wiped her nose and once more read the now worn and crumpled letter. "Oh yeah the pin." she pulled it out, should she wear now or later she wondered. Els had pulled so many pranks on people in the past, she wasn't sure if this was some ruse to get back at her. The writer had however asked for her aid, and it was so far away from home.

She stared at the pin for for too long, Sandy the pony grew restless and shifted under her, "Maggot's mushrooms, okay I wearing it girl." She pinned her cloak and covered it up with the blanket, before heading in the village proper. Dusk had started to fall when she heard to ravings from the centre of the village.

Els rode up towards the old man in the cage, wondering what he had done to deserve such treatment in this weather. Els dismounted, shooing the crow away and allowing Sandy to nibble the crumbs. She pulled a small part of dried rations from her pack and offered it the prisoner, her arms stretched incase he tried to grab her. "Ole Thombud is it? Why not tell me of pins and wizards? Before you starve and people call you the fool that froze." Ellaryn wasn't sure what to make of him, a little charity may help and she needed the information if that letter was true.

She was glad for one thing, that pin was covered up, she shivered in her blanket. Her toughened feet still felt like two blocks of ice.

---

The elf smiled as he first saw Angfort's rooftops in the distance. He had indeed arrived in time, despite of a few complications that had come to his way. Man, I hate goblins. After entering the town's area, Aelin dismounted Valko and checked that he hadn't dropped anything during the journey.

"Stay here, alright? If someone tries to harm you, you know what to do."

He gave the horse a friendly pat and wandered off towards the center of the town, whistling a cheerful tune.

"This is Angfort, right?"

He asked a local man, only to receive a nod accompanied by a loud grunt.

"Okay."

Aelin's elven ears soon spotted something out of the ordinary. Screaming. He was instantly filled with curiosity, and made his way to the voice's source, just to find an imprisoned old man and a halfling engaging in conversation. The elf stood there and watched for a while, not being able to make out the words anymore. How odd, he thought. Did I hear the word pin? And wizard?

Aelin walked to the two while fixing his hair, and spoke to old Thombud.

"Excuse me, uhm.. Sir? I was wondering if you're the.. person I'm looking for.

After a moment of awkward silence he continued.

"Aelintaur Anrandír, at your servive."

---

From a distant hill, Calariel wondered where the fort was.

Perhaps Angfort had one at some point, but it had been destroyed. This was not a safe part of the world. She'd nearly run into goblins one night of her journey. Perhaps the name was simply meant to give a greater impression than was actually warranted. Regardless, Calariel was struck by how small the place was, and how remote. She was not someone who needed constant interaction with others (quite the opposite, in fact), but living in such a place seemed lonely, and cold, in more ways than one. She studied the layout of the village from afar for some time, until she felt she had it more or less memorized. This was a very old practice for Calariel, one she was quite good at by this point.

She stood out in the village, and not even because of her eyes. Her mail glimmered, the craftsmanship of a higher quality than most of these villagers had ever seen. There were no elves here, apart from the one she'd observed entering before her, Aelintaur Anrandir, she'd caught. Calariel dismounted some distance down the little street from him, at just about the inner limit of what she could see clearly. The elf and a halfling girl were speaking with a man imprisoned in a cage.

Calariel rested a leather-gloved hand on her horse's neck. "Stay, please," she whispered, and then ventured several steps closer. The thought crossed her mind to introduce herself, but Calariel's instinctive tendency was to watch and listen from afar, and so she did, folding her hands neatly in front of her, and standing halfway concealed behind an empty card at the side of the road.

"Excuse me, uhm.. Sir? I was wondering if you're the.. person I'm looking for.

Startled, Ellaryn spun about to face the speaker that had crept up behind her like a thief in the night. She looked him up and down, and spotted the pin in plain view on his cloak. She stared at the Elf above her, she had seen one or two before in passing and like most hobbits, the tales of them fascinated them. Seeing one this close and so flawless in appearence, it was a dream come true.

Almost.

After a moment of awkward silence he continued.

"Aelintaur Anrandír, at your servive."

In one swift movement Ellaryn both opened her blanket to expose the pin she wore and raised her leg to stamp down on Aelintaur's foot. "Ellaryn Bracegirdle at yours, sir, and I never forget my manners except when I mean too."

Shivering against the cold, she closed the blanket around herself, and gave a curtsey to the poor Elf infront of her.

---

Before the old guy could respond, Aelin found the hobbit stamping on his foot.

"Oi, that's hurtful!"

He turned his face towards Ellaryn and just stared at her expressionless as she introduced herself.

"Ellaryn Bracegirdle at yours, sir, and I never forget my manners except when I mean too."

She had a familiar looking silver pin on her, and Aelin figured she had either sent the invitations or gotten one herself. Were there others as well?

"Oh, my deepest apologies.. lady Ellaryn."

---

The snow was a great irritation, but it was the wind that was truly vicious. The leather and cloth padding that made up his armor was good enough for his body, but the cloak seemed sparse protection from the occasional gust on his exposed face. The pin stood out on the washed out green colors of the cloak.

Ordinarily, he would never have considered wearing something that would make him distinguishable to others- but he knew from his dealings with the rangers that such things were the difference between an arrow in the back and a warm flagon of ale. Either was welcome at this point, if it cured the chill in his body. Vamyr urged his horse slightly faster, the village had already entered sight. It would be a shame to freeze to death before he got there.

On clattering across the first stones marking the town proper, a rising commotion made it fairly obvious where he needed to be. The elf stood out in the dimming light, standing to the side of a cart, likely used for hauling dung, vegetables, or both simultaneously. Beauty was a given, among the race of the fair folk. It was her armor that truly made her stand out. Few elves would willing travel this far from their homes, and fewer still would have the luxury of such protection. He paused for a moment beside the cart, not turning to look at her directly. To those ahead in the square, it would appear he was observing them, rather than speaking to a spy.

”If you be involved in this, then let’s get it over with.” He yawned and stretched. ”If not, I suggest you move on. Quickly." Paused a moment and began riding on toward the group before finishing the comment. ”This far north, anyone with that equipment is either a friend… or an enemy.” That said, he continued, pausing near the group. He didn’t dismount though. Vamyr instead shook his sword in its sheath to be sure it wouldn’t stick, scanning the odd trio. ”Who sent for me?”

---

Calariel observed the meeting between Aelintaur and Ellaryn with some amusement, and was able to confirm that neither was the person that had sent out the letters. It was not often that she came across halflings; this one seemed to have more than enough spirit to make up for her size. That was something Calariel could appreciate.

She heard the man approach behind her, given that he made no attempt to conceal himself, and soon became well aware that she was being watched, studied perhaps. She was not surprised. The bow and quiver on her back were openly displayed, as was her armor. When the man stopped beside the cart, atop a horse, Calariel spared a glance to look at him briefly, but she mostly just saw a blur of color. The sounds and smell of horse and wilderness were what she picked up on most. A younger man, by his voice, but no child. His words suggested there was some danger to him, though perhaps not for her.

"Forgive me, I did not intend to appear suspicious," she said, averting her eyes somewhat and betraying a bit of nervousness in her tone. "I am no enemy. I have business with those that received the pins, I just... hoped to observe first." When the man rode slowly forward, Calariel whistled back to her own horse, who trotted up behind her, allowing her to grab the reins. She led the mount forward. As she approached her eyes lost focus, staring somewhat blankly towards the ground between them. She came to a stop beside the mounted man.

"I'm curious about that as well," she admitted. "My missive was signed only with a single letter." Suddenly she smiled a bit awkwardly in greeting. "Oh, forgive me. My name is Calariel. I come from Rivendell."

The sturdy Dwarf acknowledged the incoming town of Angfort with a nod, satisfied this must be the place. His pony and he seemed road weary, but strong. Their encampment in the fortunate cave gave them both a renewed vigor, and it was only a few days before they made it to this odd town of men. He let out a long breath through his beard, and stomped down into the town proper. His cloak, beard, and beast were covered in dirt and snow, but as usual, another short rest and they'd be fine to go yet again.

These people had seen better days, he noted. Or perhaps, they had not. Perhaps it was always this dreary here. "I've seen more cheer in a graveyard." he muttered, striding with a purpose toward the town center. He had his pendant out and ready, uncaring whether friend or foe saw it. He was of Durin's folk, and was not afraid of knives in the dark. The only thing that could quake Thurin was perhaps the shadow and flame he had seen glimpses of in Moria.

He spat on the ground when he saw the company he'd be in for. A Halfling, which wasn't a bad deal. He'd met the infamous Biblo Baggins briefly many many years ago. Learned a song or two from him. If all of his folk shared his quality, he wouldn't mind. Twas the two Elves that had him spittin'. He wouldn't judge them unfairly off the bat, but it was an involuntary reaction. He should have known they'd be here, seeing as there was Elvish script in the letter. The last was two men. One lanky, looking akin to a local. The other a hard man Thurin would watch carefully. "So, who here called me to this northern bastion and why should I stick around? If there is a quest, I'd have the one who called me to heed my question."

The entirety of the small conversation between the newcomers and and their tough love bonding the caged man spent having a blissful face and teary eyes pointing upwards at the sky through the grey bars of the cage, as he relaxedly muttered some inarticulate words of thanks and gladness for this most blessed of releases. If he could, he surely would have jumped and danced and sung merry songs of freedom and defiance that would warn even the low hanging clouds off. But he could not. Soon, he hoped, he would, and no one would stand in his way.

”Quack! Quack! Quack!” goes his mouth, and he laughs, drawing the attention of the long awaited guests. “Quacky quacky!” He then for some reasons licks his own freezing nose and whistles to the crow, his old companion. Quickly, his euphoria subsides.


“Happy me! And poor yer all! You’ve come and saved me! But you’ve been fooled! You’ve been tricked by that dastardly old rascal! But enough of that! I’ve a message for ye! He’s waiting, he says! In the ‘smokey room’, he says. Up there, down the street, up in that inn somewhere, the bastard. I am not afraid of him! Oh, no, Thombud’s not afraid of any wizard, no! That’s all I’ve got, that’s all he wants of me! Go now! Quickly! Off ye go!” The mad geezer starts shaking his cage in a fit of lunacy and his blue eyes protrude so much that one would fear they'd falling out of their sockets.

"Lady? Me?" Ellaryn was momentarily lost for words. She recovered quickly though. "There you go, you can do it." She gave him one of her best smiles (which wasn't saying much, since she was so out of practice) and another curtsey. She was just about to say something else to Aelintaur, when the sound of hooves was heard.

"Who sent for me?”

Ellaryn couldn't believe another big folk in as many minutes could be so ill mannered...again. Her barbed tongue and quick wit were both ready to be unleashed on the man. Her mouth opened and just stayed there. She had to rub her eyes in disbelief. Another Elf in the same day. Wearing a pin and....and so polite. "...Els..." she whispered, clearly flustered, she went red in the face, having forgotten the ladies name in an instant.

She caught her breath to properly offer both her name and service, when the dwarf appeared also asking after the mysterious letter writer. "What is it with men folk and manners?" she stared hard at the dwarf and saw a pin also displayed openly. Once more she was distracted before she could chastise the latest newcomer. The deranged ravings of Ole Tombud had her startled once again, which she listened to in silence.

The thought of a warm inn out of the dismal cold was very pleasant until she realised she didn't have two silver to rub together. She put her hands in her pockets to check. She had two silver and of course she rubbed them together. She sighed "We may as well get warm." and looked about the village for wherever the inn was hiding.

---

It was an odd group, but he relaxed as the elf maiden joined them. He raised an eyebrow at the appearance of the dwarf- their presence was rarer than the elves. ”Wizard.” His face paled, finding that word far more disturbing than the antics of the crazed old man. He sat still in the falling snow for a moment. ”Two elves, a man, a halfing, and a dwarf are called to a bar by a wizard…” A small smile crept across his face, and he urged his horse forward, offering a respectful nod to the dwarf as he passed. ”Let us seek the punchline to this jest.” He didn’t have the money to stay at an inn however. The man had supplies for the road, but hadn’t considered alternatives. It was far cheaper to stay on the road anyhow.

As for finding the inn; Vamyr rode the direction the man had indicated, following the largest street in sight to the nearest inn sign. Dismounting, he tied his horse to the hitching post and gently stroked its nose. ”I’ll be out to take care of you soon.” With a pat on the neck, he entered the inn, shaking off a few clinging flakes of snow from his cloak. The day had been long, and Vamyr had still to set camp and take care of his mount. Factors that could likely be heard in his tone when he spoke to the approaching innkeeper; ”Take me to him.” It occurred to him that the Halfling could be right- What is it with men folk and manners?- but even those took energy. He sighed, ”…please.”

"Wizard?" Thurin echoed, and blew a blistering breath out of his beard hole. "That explains more than I care to say." With a puffing up of his chest and a fist beating against it, he strode forwards once more, past the men, halfling, and Elves. The snow still cloaked him and his mount. He'd need to find a nice, warm stable for his beast afore long. But first thing was first. He needed to see whatever Wizard was here, calling him away from his previous journey.

He tied up his mount next to the Man's, and then stepped into the tavern. The stout Dwarf looked around the room with an impatient gaze, hands on his hips. He found the man talking to the Innkeeper, and he made his way over and nodded to them both. "Aye, and me too. I've a few questions for the coot as well."

---

Aelin noticed how the party started to gather around him and then move to the nearby tavern to meet whoever had called them all here.

Oh. I should probably go too!

He made his way to the building, had a look around and noticed the innkeeper was already busy with the two others. Still no sign of our mysterious stranger, he thought.. Instead of ordering a drink he went to sit on a barrel near one of the walls, grabbed his kantele and started playing a slightly depressing melody. Hopefully the people of this village would appreciate music. If they did, the elf could even earn a bit of gold while waiting for the others to do.. whatever they were doing.