The pins flashed before Val, the innkeeper. They flashed half due to the fires burning in the fireplaces and chandeliers hanging above them from the roof, and half due to some source alien to him. The smell of beer, mead, sausages, and fresh bread mixed with the smell of pipes suddenly felt new to him, as if though he hadn't been the owner of the inn for decades. This strange feeling passed quickly, and he stopped polishing the jar in his hand as soon as he realized the symbols were there again, and left it shining on the wooden shelf behind him. ''Nora!'' he shouted, and from the kitchen walked in a young girl, red cheeks, dark-eyed and dark-haired.
''Yes, papa?'' she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
''Lead our guests... to him.'' he said with a look that says 'hurry up!'
The girl's eyes widened and she suddenly seemed more lively, which her father noticed, and sighing said: ''Children... Impressed by simple tricks.''
''Follow me!'' the girl said and hurried on light feet towards the flight of stairs leading to what looked like a cloud come through the windows to spend the night on the second floor of the inn.
But then she stopped. Before she could lead them, the banter talk of rude content subsided and all eyes turned towards the elven minstrel. It had been a long time since the inn had last been graced by a proper song, and all those who had lodged in it before looked in disbelief as the woeful tune rose from the chords, some of them even moved to tears, perhaps reminded by the song of a summer romance of their childhood, or a good friend lost in battle or time. A tall, huge red-bearded man slammed his hand on his table, spilling some ale, and called for the innkeeper to give the singer and his friends a drink of their choice; and then wiped off a tear running down his cheek. What better proof of the potency of a good tune than the tears of the hardest of men?
The innkeeper heard the man and saw a few other frozen visitors raising their cups -- and to be fair enough, he himself was touched by the instrument, for his own father used to play such a one a long time ago. He nods with a friendly, nostalgic smile, looking at the playing elf, as if asking with the bob of his head ''What would you like tonight, my friend?''
