DuneDain Inn

[AraCelebEarwen]

Alright. Now then... back to the inn!

((ooc- *pushes big red 'restart idea' button just to see what happens*))

Gray-blue eyes had seen it all happen. The girl had it coming. Ara sighed in disgust as she started to think what an end such a young looking thing could come to, but decided to think on other things. She ordered a drink and leaned back, grudgingly enjoying the quiet inn.

 

[Halasían]

The old inn looked deserted and worse for wear as he rode up to the door. The rain was falling steadily, and the wind made the weather-worn sign swing awkwardly from one of its two hooks. The other had rusted and broke. He dismounted and gave his horse a pat as he stepped on the porch. He reached up and stopped the sign from moving as he tried to read the weather-worn words. The Roadhouse was all he could make out on it, though there was some name that used to be on there. Turning to the large oak doors. Durian could see that one was slightly ajar. The hinges were rusty, but with a bit of a push, the door squeaked open wide enough to allow him to squeeze inside.

He did his best to push the door back closed but it would jam with about a thumb-width of a gap. After looking at the second of the double doors, Durian could see that the hinges were well and truely rusted as water trickled down the frame. So he turned and walked into the common room. Inside was dusty, as if it was simply abandoned by the proprietor. He walked over to the bar and looked at the dust. He could hear water dripping onto the old well-worn wood floor in nomerous places with one particurlay noisy splashing over near the fireplace. Pulling out his flint out, Durian used his knife to kindle a candle that was laying on the hearth on its side. The dim light flickered to life and he considered lighting some of the other candles. After getting a few of them burning, he decided to try and light a fire to take the damp chill away from the place. There was still wood piled by the hearth, and even though some was wet and some was dry rotted, it was good enough to get a flame to grow from a small nub of a candle he pushed under the wood. Yes, he would stay here, at least until the rain passed.

Once the fire was burning hard with the scraps of bark and kindling, he used a few small logs to cover it before he went outside to tend to his horse. He led her around back to the decrepit stable, but he deemed it safe enough for her to shelter in for the rain was not going to let up any time soon. She settled into the old hay and he gave her a brush to allow the water to wash her some.

”I will be back soon missy.”

He said as he gave her some oats he carried before he went back inside the inn. The fire he had made was attempting to warm the place, and he moved a table close to the dry side of the hearth and righted a stool and sat down by it. Watching the flickering flame and listening to the constant drip of the rain leaking through the roof echoed through the empty room, and Durian leaned back against a beam by the window, feeling himself getting drowsy and drifting partially into a dream.

The old oak whispered to him, hinting at many stories. There were strong Arnorian soldiers arguing over the impending division of Arnor, to relationships made and broken, to plots and plans of good and ill, to death and blood, to intense love and feelings. Durian felt their whispers, and he turned and slowly reached for the oak beam. A vision flashed in his mind when he set his hand on it. A fair maiden moving about the wood, her long raven hair swaying and wrapping about her. She turned and looked at him and smiled...

Durian straightened up and blinked his eyes, standing up as he had a hard time gaining his breath. He set back down on the hearth as he felt strange, and though it was only a moment, the vision seared itself into him. He again stood and stepped back over to the beam where he saw a slight glow. There on the beam was carved finely as if an Elven craftsman had worked it, a heart with the names Halrohir and Lonannuniel. His fingers came up to it but hesitated. He touched the name Halrohir and saw a brief vision of a handsome Dunedain ranger. When he moved his finger to the name Lonannuniel, a beautiful Elf maiden flashed in his mind. But she was not the same as the one he had seen earlier. When he placed his finger on the heart, he saw the two people very much in love getting married. He retreated his hand from it and could see the glow where he had touched it had faded some.

He stared at it for a time until a loud pop from the fire broke his thoughts. An orange ember shot out and it bounced across the floor. Durian quickly stepped over and ground it out with his boot. With his movement away from the beam, the visions faded in intensity in his mind and only became a vague memory. He decided to rummage around the place especially behind the bar to see if there was anything drinkable. There were a few bottles of wine still sealed, and a firkin of ale that seemed to have not leaked. He pounded the tap into the firkin and tried some of it. A heavy stout, smooth and very well aged. He looked for a tankard and found one that was turned upside down but was not broken. He tipped the firkin to fill it.

"This will do nicely."

he said and walked back over by the fire. He sat on the hearth and leaned his back against the stones to the side of the fire. Sipping his ale, he sat and listened to the rain on the roof and the leak and its continuous dripping, along with the sound of the fire next to him...

 

[Olorgando]

What ... ? Oops, sorry, RPG ... 😬

 

[Halasían]

When some old drunk staggered in, he seemed bewildered. Durian looked at him and grinned. He wasn't much for conversation as he apologised and walked back out into the rain. Durian walked over and did his best to shut the door again before returning to his ale by the fire.

 

[Squint-eyed Southerner]

Just before the door shut, he thought to spy a swarthy, squint-eyed face, leering at him from under the trees across the road.

"No," he muttered to himself. "It must have been my imagination. No one could be that ugly."

 

[Ealdwyn]

Just the same, he knew that agents of the Enemy took many forms: some fair, some foul.
Despite the remoteness of the inn, he would not be so foolish as to lower his guard tonight. He would sleep with his sword close at hand.

 

[Halasían]

Just before the door shut, he thought to spy a swarthy, squint-eyed face, leering at him from under the trees across the road.

"No," he muttered to himself. "It must have been my imagination. No one could be that ugly."

"Hmm.... pretty sure I saw that guy pawing through the garbage behind the Prancing Pony a while back." Durian said to himself, deciding to load up the only other still-sealed firkin he could find and slip out the back through the kitchen. With the worst of the weather having moved on and both he and his horse having some rest, Durian would ride north in hopes of finding that elusive Rhuadurian that left him messages...

 

[Hisoka Morrow]

"Identify yourself!", said a Ranger.

 

[Ihsan997]

Having sheltered in a nearby wood during the storm, Thade already found himself somewhat rested, if uncomfortable with the idea of water falling from the sky. The Eastern Dwarf pulled a thick bearskin cloak around him as he led his two mounts, a chestnut pony with a saddle and a small donkey bearing his belongings, into the muddy soil between the Roadhouse stables and the tree line.

He was soon halted in his tracks by two interlopers. The first, a man who seemed he might be from the Dunedain community, exited the abandoned building and moved toward the stables. The second, another human whom Thade couldn’t see, gave an order for identification. Though prepared to defend himself, Thade remained aware of the fact that he was in another people’s homeland, and he stopped in his tracks in front of his animals, holding still save for a wiggle of his curly black mustache.