”Well, master smith,” Éolan spoke in Rohirric while making herself comfortable in the chair, ”ale does make one readier, so I'll save my answer after I've had some.” She had never tasted ale before. Or rather she had, as a child, dipping a finger or two into her father's mug to draw attention and then licking them. It tasted nasty and she would giggle and grimace as her father and his friends laughed, and that was all she remembered of it. Many years had passed since then, so she could have easily called the drink she had in front of her her first. And she did, although in her thoughts only. She had also decided to leave the dwarf's question unanswered: [i]Do I really do it? Talk much when I am nervous?[/i]. 

”Éolan, at your service.” She looked each of them in the eyes and nodded.

She held her breath and took a long sip of what felt like fire on her tongue. Immediately, she knew she had foolishly overestimated herself. All her strength had to be mustered for her to keep a straight face, but her stomach and throat were burning for water. Her cheeks were burning too, but that could have been the warmth of the inn caressing them. ”I'm a bit sickly, it's all,” she said quickly trying to prevent herself from coughing. Covering her mouth with her hand, she sniffled. 

”I hope you have all travelled well and found Rohan a pleasant realm,” she said. A feeling of obligation seized her and she felt as if she had to make them feel comfortable in her land, to make them understand it and to represent her folk in a good light. Fortunately, the kind smith had already started taking care of that. [i]I might invite them all over after all this is over.[/i] She hiccuped. [i]That would be an unexpected party.[/i]