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Rhona could hardly believe her luck at this point in time, just when she had thought it had run out, here was this… [i]man[/i] before her. Her dark green eyes, the shade of an evergreen gazed back at him. Everything had happened so fast that she was still coming to terms. He… had helped her, and even more so, he covered for her when the guards had approached. Her slender brows knitted together then as her gaze intensified. She didn’t recognize him as one of the Nightguard that her master had kept, not unless he hired him, but that didn’t seem entirely plausible. What were the chances that she would have met a potential scout to return her?

Rhona cleared her throat then, and then promptly bowed at the waist, a formal half bow, “T-thank you. I… I would stay, but I really must go.” She turned to leave, sparing him one last curious glance.

“Maybe I could help?” He asked, reaching out to her, before pulling his hand back. The words had been pulled from his mouth before he even realized, but she had seemed undeniably forlorn, and it did not sit right with him to just toss her away without the offer. But he wouldn’t push for it too strongly. He shook his head, feeling as if he needed to make an excuse for himself, as if her green eyes could cut through the heart of him. “I guess I just know what it’s like to be in a strange place, alone…” He said with a shrug. 

He did not know what kind of help he could be, he realized. As he just admitted, he was not a local to the city either. Hells, he wasn’t even a local of the continent.

His words gave her pause, and after they had died away, she turned slowly to gaze back at him, quirking a brow.

“You would… help?” The notion of receiving help did not settle with her easily. She had been on her own for the better part of two decades, if one could say that, or at least in strange places. It was a feeling that she knew well, one that his words made her mull over with great consideration.

Given the situation, Rhona felt as if she didn’t have a choice. She was [i]hungry[/i]. Footsore, and travel weary on top of that. She hadn’t slept in the past two days, and bordered on near collapse.

“Should I… take your aid, if one may call it that… w-what would you ask in return? I have no gold to offer you,” She said, shifting uneasily from one foot to the next.

Beren looked at her, his eyes keen for a human’s. He could tell she wished to hide her visage, but he was unsure why. He felt she must truly be without trust or companionship at all, and when she spoke he knew it to be true. Her words held naked suspicion and unapologetic unsurety. Not the sly, knowing suspicion of a cutthroat or a normal city thief. 

In all honesty, he was somewhat lost himself. He had no real idea where he was, but he did know of an inn down the street, at least, and if he could not leave Greybridge today, there was good a place as any to stay the night. He spoke softly, so as not to alarm her.
 
“I want nothing in return, save maybe a little company?” He added, a light suggestion. While the concept of her being granted aid might be foreign to her, he wondered if he could make her understand, and said aloud: “Have you never wished to help someone before?” 

She lowered her gaze, staring at the tops of her worn boots, two sizes too big. Everything in her nature told her not to trust him. Anyone offering help [i]always[/i] had an ulterior motive, in her experience. And yet… he had helped her selflessly when she had made the desperate choice to steal food, and even went so far as to deter the guards.

Rhona couldn’t answer his question, not right at this moment. With a deep breath, Rhona reached up, her slender fingers tugging down the hood of her cloak. Her gaze met his then as she waited, holding her breath for a few moments. Sunlight filtered down over the rooftops and into the alleyway, shedding light over her.

While she was a dark elf, her complexion was lighter, a smokey grey with a curious rose undertone. Across her right cheek was an aged scar that spiderwebbed over her cheek, and tapered off at the bridge of her nose. Her hair was a different matter altogether, evoking the image of freshly spilled blood. Her hair was pulled back in a set of twin braids, with a few strands framing her face. Overall, Rhona looked… timid.

“Do you still wish to help me?” Her voice came out tiny, and incredibly small, her gaze focused on him. 

Beren flinched, not expecting that at all. A part of his mind told him to take out his axe, to move before he was killed by some foul sorcery. He knew better than most the cruelty of the dark elves. But it was all wrong. If she had wanted to lure him anywhere, she wouldn’t have introduced herself in such a way. After his first thought, his second thought sent blood rushing to his face. 

[i]Pretty girl…[/i] 

He took a breath, trying to suppress his untoward thoughts and his body’s reaction. She was exotic, beautiful even! His heart thumped, audible in his ears. But even that was thrown out of his mind a moment later. He had been trained to live a life of discipline, and though he did not always live up to that ideal, his training helped him prioritize his thoughts and words. Beyond her dark origins, beyond the fact she was breathtaking, he could tell she was sincere. Past it all, she was just a lost soul that was hungry, and he would help her even if they sent him to the chopping block for it. 

It was the right thing to do. 

He smiled and gave her a bow. “It would be my honor.” He told her in all sincerity. 

She exhaled in relief, and rubbed the back of her head before giving him a half smile.

“Ah, I… don’t know what to say,” she said sheepishly. She then stuck out her hand, “I’m Rhona. T-thank you for helping me back there.” 

Beren gave a small laugh, glad to see her easing up. He extended his hand and shook hers gingerly. “I’m Beren, and it’s cool. Happy to make a friend.” He told her. 

She donned her cloak again, enshrouding her form once again. Beren led her out of the alleyway, turning right, moving north up Gargoyle Street, hitting the intersection where men and women strolled as carts rumbled past. Beren lifted himself up on his tiptoes, growing even taller compared to Rhona as he looked over the milling crowd. “Ok there it is, c’mon,” He bade her. 

Ten minutes later, Beren had procured a booth behind a curtain in the corner of the common room. Rhona waited within, and the monk had bought two glasses of clean water and two vrettonian spiced trenchers, carrying the wooden plates over and using his muscled shoulder to brush the curtain out of the way. He placed one in front of Rhona, and then the other on his side. “Sorry that took a sec,” he apologized, plopping down. “I was not sure if you would stay the day, so I purchased a room for you.” 

He didn’t tell her half his coin was gone. He could always get a bit more, or sleep in a barn. He was used to travel and rough living. “If you don’t want it, I’ll use it. But if you’re here tonight, you take it.” 
He shook his head, expecting her protestations. “We can talk while we eat, but the world’s rough out there. Just get some rest and we’ll call it even, ok?” He had already grabbed his trencher, lifting it to his lips and taking a large bite. A small line ran down his cheek from the juices, and he let out a soft ‘hmm’ before placing his trencher down and wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. “Sorry, don’t usually sit with someone.” He chuckled.

Rhona glanced down at the trencher on the plate before her, she could do nothing but stare at the food on her plate, salivating heavily. Her eyes flickered to Beren then, watching as how he ate. She prodded at it with a tentative finger, examining it as if it were going to come alive, satisfied that it wouldn’t, and was safe to eat. Then, awkwardly, she picked up her own trencher, and took a massive bite. She swooned then, the amount of flavor washing over her taste buds making her head dizzy. 

“Mm!!” She cried in delight, and quickly downed the entire thing with a few bites. Her stomach was full, sufficiently full for the first time in… years? She was accustomed to a diet of thin gruel, or mushroom bread. She was so eager to savor the meal, she ended up licking her plate clean. 

Rhona sat there for a few seconds before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “S-sorry.” She said, her face flushing with a soft pink hue. 

Beren laughed in delight. “Hey, no worries. Don’t got to impress.” He said, sitting back. He began scarfing his down as well. He looked much like a wolf.

“You… bought me a room? What about you? Where will you sleep?” She asked, concern lacing her words. 

It was true, Beren had been traveling quite a long way. He was tired, and wanting of a bed. But not as much as her, he knew. Greybridge was going to be a place to relax for a bit, but every traveler knew that plans changed, even if it was of their own volition. Beren was too good-hearted to let the promise of a bed keep him from helping someone in need, even if his dwarven uncles would spit on him for aiding a dark elf. 

“I can sleep in the common room.” He said, nonchalant. “Or find a place in the stables. I’m used to sleeping in hay, I’ll be alright.” 

She lowered her gaze then, studying the grains of the wood beneath her hands, “N-no. I couldn’t accept such an offer, not knowing that you would be in less favorable situations. If… if I may be so forward, we could at least share the room. [i]Please[/i].” 

Rhona had a peculiar way of speaking, her tone was gentle and soothing, almost akin to the sensation of warming one’s hands after time spent outdoors in the cold. 

Beren paused. It was a kind gesture, and if this was any other situation, especially with a dorcha, he could see himself being a fool to accept. After all, they were known for their cunning and their taste for blood, but…he had initiated every contact between them, and she was as sincere as one could be in the request. He ran a hand through his thick mane of black hair and sighed. “Alright, but only if you get the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said, a smile on his face. 

She glowered, crossing her arms over her chest, “No.”

“No,” she said again. “You paid for the room, you sleep in the bed. Besides, beds are too soft for me. I will take the floor.” Any of the uncertainty that was present in her voice, had vanished immediately, a confidence to her demeanor now. Rhona gazed back at him with half lidded eyes, her brows furrowed into a straight line, and even her lips turned down into a frown.

Beren was stubborn too. It was one of his main faults, actually. It was from spending all that time with the dwarves. But she was the one he was helping, and if she preferred the floor, it was only rational and right to give both of them what they wanted, even if a part of him felt like it wasn’t right. 
“Alright,” he capitulated. “As long as you’ll be comfortable, then I’ll sleep on the bed.”