The Old Guesthouse

Seven Stars and Seven Stones and One White Tree.
Melkor
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Balcheth

By the time Thea read the text and asked "do I say it here?", the chicken thigh had been cleaned bereft of its meat and tendons. Balcheth gave a quick smirk as Thea exhaled in relief, which turned into a smile.

When Thea asked the question, Balcheth slightly turned her head towards the bar, noting the various customers including Veowyn, Reikon, and Findy.

"Not here. Library, after we are finished eating. If anybody asks, I am your tutor," Balcheth responded, a neutral expression on her face as she restrung the two bags and attached them to her side quickly. She then scarfed down a big chunk of the artisan bread, which elicited an exaggerated smile on her face, "delicious, mmm!... Why don't you have some of this chicken breast? The meat is good for you!"

When they were finished eating, Balcheth would ask, "are you ready? If so, let us leave, my student."

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After several minutes, and many other patrons entering, Arteris never answered. It appeared the old commander wished to be alone. So Turin turned to look around. He saw many people he didn’t recognize, and a few he did. One in particular he was hoping would swing by. They had much to catch up on.

Turin walked away from the bar and approached a table. This particular table bore the presence of Arnyn and Red. “Mind if I join in?” He asked pulling a chair over for himself. He’d caught the last statement his bash bro had asked, "So is this just a trip back to the white city or will it's walls once again be graced by the great and powerful Arnyn Dealedwen?"

“I would hope not.” Turin answered for himself. “You’re one of the only people I’m still too scared to get on the bad side of. But then again, if you’re gone, I can be a goofball without worrying.” He took a sip of his ale and grinned looking at the two of them.
Always mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy- Stonewall Jackson
Hubris guarantees disaster.- T C

Éowyn
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Arnyn

When Red commented he was sure she'd shown the northern rangers how it's done, Arnyn hid a smile behind her beer mug, even though she likely couldn't hide it in her eyes. It was she who had learned a lot up there, she thought. Her face grew thoughtful when he said he'd needed to make things right with his family. She could understand that. She followed Red's gaze and spotted Turin. When she looked back to Red, she thought she saw some emotion she couldn't place right away, but he immediately distracted her by asking a question she found uncomfortable, flattering and mocking all at the same time.

She rolled her eyes just when Turin joined them. HIs answer made her raise an eyebrow at him. "Sit down, Turin," she told him in a lower tone of voice that said there would be trouble if he didn't. "Looks like I might just have to stick around if that's the case."

Kaylin

She was elated to hear the Dwarven lady say she was tired of etiquette. "Well then, Nerwen of houses Meneldur and Stealtharm - you've stumbled onto the right Gondorian." She blinked. "Or the right Gondorian stumbled onto you, almost." At the question about her drink, Kaylin nodded. "Oh yes. It caught me by surprise, but it's the good kind of burn." Taking another sip, although a slightly more measured one this time, the redhead motioned at Haldecar. "When she's done with the fancy wine, get her one of these." Her blue-grey eyes sparkled at Nerwen. "We might even find out who can hold their liquor best: a Dwarf of good standing or a soldier of Gondor!"

Whereas any other might think their partner would object to such a notion, all Kaylin was thinking was how good it was Thûllir was here - if things got bad and she lost, he could get her home, after all!
Arnyn ~ Honor & Valor
Kaylin ~ Joy & Strength

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Thea

Thea watched with quiet contemplation as the woman restrung the small bags and replaced them on her belt. How this stranger had even come by this great fortune was worth thinking about, yet at the moment other thoughts occupied her confused mind. Doubt was still gnawing at her belly, along with the all familiar hunger. Though given the few bites she had managed, the hunger was undoubtedly less fierce and demanding. Hearing the womans answer Thea merely gave a nod as she was told where they would be going, almost relieved that she would still have a moment longer to gather her thoughts.

While the food had cooled significantly and definitely not tasting as good as when it was piping hot, Thea still managed to eat some more of it, using the chunks of bread to scoop some gravy and meat up. Thankfully it was a well made stew and one that did not congeal when cold, but eventually she was full, leaving the rest in the bowl that she pushed into the middle of the table to indicate that she was done. She had given the woman a shake of her head and a whispered no thanks to the offer of chicken as sharing food off the plate seemed odd for two strangers to do. It did occur to her that maybe it was a custom that this woman was used to where she came from, but even so she could not force herself to actually share some. Relived when the woman finally finished as well, Thea rose and followed the woman out of the now crowded pub, looking around at each one there almost as if it would be the last time she would be in here, her heart beginning to flutter nervously. What had she gotten herself into she thought as she wrung her raw red hands together.

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Nerwen raised her eyebrows in understanding and tipped her glass towards Kaylin in a gentle cheers, "Ah yes. The good burn. It has been a few decades since I have felt one of those". In the back of her mind she thought she should probably make the wine last so she didn't end up in a sticky situation and ruin their trading chances with the city of men but on the other hand...

She spun around on her stool and surveyed the inn, leaning her elbows back on the air and swinging her booted feet in front of her a little bit. She had been up and down the city many times today, and her muscles were aching. "So, Kaylin", she mused, "Are you Minar Tirith born and bred? Have you got any exciting local tales to tell a visitor?"
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Zev & Morwen

Zev’s brain caught up with the rest of him, and he closed his mouth. Gawking like a fool might help with the ruse, but he didn’t need to completely regress.

“Yes, no! I mean, I thought I was too dirty- that is, no one would recognize-” Kaylin clapped him on the shoulder, mentioning his knack for trouble. “Lost it? No, I-” But before he could continue, someone new (Helzîr) entered the pub. Not a completely strange thing, as people were coming in and out as they spoke; it was a busy day at the Guesthouse. But something made him look up, his concentration shifting from the conversation with the group, who were busy introducing themselves to one another. Yes, something was definitely wrong about the man who had just entered. If his complete garbage mash up of clothing hadn’t given him away, his loud exclamations about fine ale and ‘my good man’ would have.

This was what they had been waiting for. He supposed it was lucky the man appeared completely inept; they hadn’t hidden themselves well. But after all, why would they have ever expected one of his uncle’s men to come after them in a crowded pub in the first circle? He tried to get Morwen’s attention by clearing his throat loudly. Several times. She seemed to be ignoring him. While everyone continued exchanging names, he casually elbowed her in the ribs. Hard.

Morwen let out a grunt, and shifted sharply toward him, finally meeting his gaze. He tried to subtly gesture with his eyes, but she clearly wasn’t getting it. “Excuse me for a moment, while I have a word with my… protege.” She spit the word at the end, continuing the irritable mentor shtick. They walked a bit away from the group just as Kaylin choked on her drink, and turned their backs to them. “What is it?” she muttered.

“He’s here. Give it a moment, but just behind us, at the bar, ordering.” He waited until Morwen had glanced back, then continued, “I think we-” But she cut him off.

“That one? The idiot in the patched up clothing calling out his lack of blending for all to hear? He couldn’t assassinate a cooked chicken if it stuck itself on his fork. Your uncle is smarter than that, Zev. Now let’s get back to the group before we start to look suspicious. If it isn’t too late for that already.”

“But-” He began to protest; Morwen had recognized his skills and growth, but sometimes she still assumed he didn’t know anything. Unfortunately, she was slipping into an old habit.

“We have to go back and make merry now. Use our names loudly, our cover is blown anyway. We’ll make enough ruckus that if anyone intelligent is following us, they’ll pick up our trail and likely make their move when we’re back on the road or the place has emptied.” Before he could say anything else, she rejoined the group, leaving him no option.

Zev gritted his teeth in frustration, and jumped back in time to catch Kaylin challenging Nerwen to a drinking contest. For a moment, old instincts leapt up, and a sparkle entered his eye. That sounded fun. He squashed the impulse, but then realized… this could be just the ticket.

“A drinking contest!” He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in excitement, and unintentionally shaking a large cloud of dust onto the group. Morwen began coughing, and gestured the barkeep over for another drink. “Count me in! And-” his plan rapidly formed in his mind, and he sprang over to where the oddly dressed probably assassin (Helzîr) was, grabbing him by the arm, “Friend, what is your name? Won’t you join us and show us how a true Gondorian citizen holds his drink?”

The barkeep had made his way over in response to Morwen’s gesture, and Zev stepped in front of her to put his order in first. “Let’s start with a round of whatever my grouchy mentor’s been drinking! Who’s in?”
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Helzîr’s ale had scarcely arrived when he was seized from behind by the arm. He had been so determinedly demonstrating that he was not looking at Morwen and Zev that he had in fact not noticed the young man approaching him ”A drinking contest!” Zev had cried, and before he knew it Helzîr was being dragged into their midst, the ale in his tankard slopping over with the enthusiasm of the movement. “A drinking contest!” he exclaimed, with genuine enthusiasm. Such contests were a favorite entertainment among his people, and he was confident he could turn these events to his advantage. “Ah- my name is- uh-,” all this time and he still hadn’t managed to come up with a good alias. The cogs of his brain whizzed rapidly, and he glanced about wildly, his eyes finally flitting to land upon the mug in his hand. “Tankar! I’m Tankar! And of course, I’d be happy to join you.” Helzîr grinned and swigged confidently from his mug. And almost choked. Oh… oh dear. The ale ofthese Gondorians was… much stronger than what he was used to. This was either going to be the best, or very worst, thing that had happened to him on this mission so far.
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Veowyn had suddenly fallen into her thoughts. Her hands rested on her mug and a piece of cheese, and her eyes stared straight at the empty chair across from her, but that is not what she was truly seeing. Her mind was flooded with so many memories. Her visions were of her first days in the city. She had come not with the cinnamon trade she now ran. It was there she had trained both of her brothers and some others in Woodworking. The laughter they shared working together; saw dust in their hair, the pride at a skill mastered and job well done. She missed them both dearly. Though, while she could send her adopted brother Beren a letter, or even visit him when they were both in the area, Maldir she couldn't. Maybe she was not as ready to be back in the White City as she thought...

Something in the room made just the right sound, that brought her back to the present. She shook her head, from its statue-pose, and blinked a few times to allow her eyes to readjust to actually doing the seeing. She gulped down her ale, asked for a refill, and nibbled at the cheese. She scanned the room, and realized it was a much more populated place than when she first sat down. She chuckled to herself, she needed to stop reminiscing. She contemplated if that meant she should order a third drink, or if she should get a room, and be done for the night.
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Maldir - you are missed

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Kaylin

She shook her head at Nerwen. "Nay, I'm Linhir born and bred actually - I moved here a couple of years ago. Haven't regretted it. Even though I do miss my folks, I've had some good times here." The redhead grinned - even blushed - and put her glass to her lips again to take another drink - or possibly hide her face somewhat. "Case and point," she said as she lowered it back down. "So I suppose I do have a number of exciting tales to tell." She remembered when, many months ago - or had it been years already? - she had told a different audience three tales and had asked them to catch the lie. Her eyes sparkled at Thûllir; he had been the only one present then who was also here now.

Her gaze got a little worried as they fell on Morwen and Zev, who'd taken a moment in private. She could tell a little story about her and Morwen, for one, that was quite exciting. But even Kaylin knew that would be terribly inappropriate. She just hoped Zev had rubbed off on Morwen rather than the other way around. If those two had been traveling together... Morwen could use a whole lot more positivity in her life. Zev needn't lose any of his.

It looked like she didn't have to worry too much - upon returning to the group, Zev latched onto her idea of a drinking contest so excitedly that he sent a cloud of dust twirling all around them. Kaylin laughed through pressed together lips and narrowed eyes as she covered her drink with one hand. Once the dust had settled, she grinned happily: Zev was still as spontaneous as she remembered him! He even pulled someone else, Tankar, into the mix! She nudge-leaned into Thûllir for a moment to let out some of her joy at the whole scene.

"I'm in!" To prove it, she took another drink from her glass. She could feel the liquor's warmth all the way down her throat and into her stomach. She realized she still owed Nerwen a story. "Oh damn it," she chuckled. "Almost forgot. You asked for a story!" she exclaimed. "I really do think this gathering here will make for another good one, but I think Zev here could tell you a good one about pies in the barracks. If that one fails to amuse, I will pick up the slack."
Arnyn ~ Honor & Valor
Kaylin ~ Joy & Strength

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Red Daghul

Just as his question left his lips and a smile formed on his face at the reaction he was getting Turin rescued Arnyn and it gained a lighthearted laugh from Red. Getting his command to sit the ranger added his own "Of course, like we would ever turn you away brother, who else is going to keep us amused" he grinned. It had been way to long since he had sat down with his Hyandaner family, and this was something he was finding he needed.

Hearing Arnyn's response that she might be staying brought a warm feeling to his heart, had he missed this place that much and these people. He knew the answer, it was written all over his heart, and to be home was such a sweet feeling. Home... he had used the word home. Taking another gulp of his beer he looked at the other two "Now it has been all this time I'm sure that we have some good stories to tell" he looked at Arnyn "I know the life in the north must of had plenty of adventures" then at Turin "and I know your attraction to trouble so please I am all ears" he grinned again.

Though tired, and sore from his won adventures new life seemed to be swelling in his heart and body, youth seemed to flow through him and his mind was lit by memories of their adventures. And for a moment he could see them having so many more, and that brought such a beautiful feeling through him. He knew he truly missed this.
~Red Daghul~
Hyandaner for life!

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Turin

Turin chuckled and made an exaggerated gulp at his old captain's comment of staying, heavily implying to keep him in check. He took a sip from his ale and sighed. It seemed like old times had returned, sitting with his Hyandaner friends. Not to mention, Red's comment on keeping them entertained. "Hey, I was a heavy trouble maker only in the beginning. I didn't cause nearly as much of a ruckus after becoming an officer. I think there was only that one time ... maybe two ... or was it three ... anyway, I wasn't that bad." He couldn't help but laugh.

"I haven't been to the northern part of the kingdom, I don't think ever. The farthest north I've ever been was to a dwarven stronghold in the Misty Mountains, I don't remember exactly where. It was where I got my second sword made. But as for attracting trouble, my home in the brown lands has actually been quite peaceful. With the folks in Ithilien to the south, and the folks in Lorien and Mirkwood to the north. There have been a couple random bands thieves coming through, but for the most part, probably because it's pretty desolate, it's quiet." He looked at the two of them. "You yourself attract some trouble too Red. Yes, I probably had a bigger pull on it, but share some of your woes."
Always mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy- Stonewall Jackson
Hubris guarantees disaster.- T C

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Nerwen threw back the rest of her wine, which had felt almost like a whole meal, and gave the barkeep a thumbs up to show she was ready for one of his "specials". Just then, Zev also appeared, full of vigour and enthusiasm and seeming to escape the clutches of Morwen. “A drinking contest!” He exclaimed, and Nerwen coughed slight as a large cloud of dust fell from his hair. How filthy were these men? Did they not have a spa in Minar Tirith. Nerwen tucked that nugget away for a new business possibility. By sheer force of personality, Zev also managed to hook a rather shady looking fellow (Helzir) into their game. Nerwen saluted them both with the glass which had just appeared on the bar in front of her. There was nothing better than good company and good drink. Hang her reputation for now, she was going to enjoy herself!

"I do love being told a story, so bring out your best ones" she cried at Kaylin's suggestion, "Perhaps we can have a drink and story contest! I'm sure I could rustle up a prize from somewhere. So Zev, you start with the pies and the barracks! I hope this one involves a prank or mischief to some degree?"
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Zev had grown up a lot since the pies and the barracks story. This whole drinking contest thing had a purpose. He was smoking out an assassin; another step closer to finding his uncle. He was mature now. And so what if being mature meant reliving old tales and drinking… a lot? Two birds with one stone. Or maybe three.

His eyes lit up at Kaylin’s mention of the barracks and pies. He glanced at Morwen; she seemed resigned to whatever was about to happen right now, and had already downed an additional shot.

She gave a shrug, as if to say, if you can't beat 'em, and then called out, “First drinks down!” And gave a wink? How much had she had already?

And the newcomer, the assassin, (he was sure of it, whatever Morwen thought), seemed enthusiastic as well. When “Tankar” gave his name, Morwen didn’t even bother covering her snort. She was going to make him suspicious if she didn’t let up. Though Tankar didn’t seem particularly well-trained or clever, and it was hard to say, but the Gondorian ale seemed to give him a bit of a shock.

Then Nerwen mentioned a prize, and made a second ask for the barracks story. Zev couldn't resist. Picking up one of the glasses, he downed it, gasping a bit. Wow, Morwen really liked her drink strong.

“A story, you say?” he coughed a bit, as the alcohol burned, then settled. “Yes, I’ll tell you a story-- of a young sailor, fresh off the boats, returning to the Gondorian barracks to take back his place in the ranks of the Rangers…” As he went on with his tale, his earlier cider, and then the first shot, began to take effect; and his gestures became more lively. “I intended to be serious, of course. But, you see, Sergeant Pete made the very best pies. And so, I thought-- just one wouldn’t hurt. It was triple berry, of course. I ate it in just a few minutes. I’m sure I made quite a sight; shirtless, tattoos and piercings all for the world to see, and my hair and face stained with dark purple berry juice. I wish I could have seen it. Magnificent.” Zev wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, to denote, of course, the beauty of his mischief in full glory.

“Once I had eaten my first pie and adorned my war paint, compliments of the triple berry,” He continued, completely in the story now, dipping his fingers into one of the shot glasses to mimic his actions then, spreading lines of alcohol across his face, “I filled my arms to brimming with pies, stacks of them. Ammo for the war to come. I utilized my well trained stealth skills to make my way from the kitchens to the barracks,” Zev crouched, sliding between a few chairs, and crawling forward, alcohol rushing to his brain as he re-enacted his glory days. “I placed the pies just outside the room, and picked two up in my hands,” He scooped up the nearest items, two tankards. “And then, with a mighty shout, I burst forth into the room, lobbing my ammo at the nearest soldiers,”

Unable to contain himself, Zev leaped up onto the table, and yelled loudly, “For Gondor!” He kept the tankards in his hands, but his arms swung up in excitement, and the contents of both of them were flung into the air.

For one glorious moment, it seemed the amber liquid hung suspended, then it crashed back down, most of it landing on the overzealous storyteller. Spluttering and semi-drenched, he struck a victorious pose, possibly awaiting applause.

“Well, at least you’re cleaner than you were before,” Morwen said drily, completely unperturbed by this turn of events. She had been traveling with him for a long time, and had learned to take things in stride. “Barkeep,” she called, “Fresh tankards for my friends, if you would be so kind.” She tossed some coin onto the front counter. “Well, who’s next?”
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Kaylin

Her glass was now empty and she started sipping her second drink with an agreeable warm feeling spreading through her insides. Catching Morwen's wink, she chuckled and threw in a giggle for good measure. What a nice surprise - it looked like Morwen wasn't all doom and gloom anymore! Although there did seem to be a good measure of gloom left, the setting (and probably, the alcohol) was poking some holes through it.

The way Zev told his story, including his unbridled re-enactment on the floor as well as on the table, made Kaylin's eyes widen with excitement. "He might be worse than I am," she grinned at Thûllir, obviously over the moon. "How glorious."

When the contents of two ales went flying up in the air, Kaylin's mouth formed a perfect 'O'. Whereas most people would automatically try and shelter their faces with their hands, she just stared - transfixed - to see what would happen. When the beer came crashing down on Zev himself, and Morwen commented that would make him cleaner than before, Kaylin couldn't help herself anymore. She laughed out loud when Morwen asked who was next, and raised her hand: "Me, teach!"

Taking a queue from Zev, she positioned herself in the center of the group. After his precedent, it looked like she'd have to put on a show if she were to compete.

"Picture, if you will, ladies and gents - the army barracks." She spread her arms out, turning around once on the heel of one foot. "Imagine also - the old barracks master, Lieutenant Brian." For Nerwen's sake, she explained the barracks master a bit more, and the speed with which she'd finished the strongest drink in Haldecar's repertoire had her speak less carefully than she would otherwise. "Lieutenant Brian is an older man, very into paperwork, packing a few paper weights around the waist if you know what I mean..." a small gesture around the abdominal area there, "- and he's an enormous fan of CALM and ORDER." She shuddered a bit at her own distaste for such things. "Even paper shovers need to take a bath, however."

"So when, after a tiring day of looking at paper scribbles, the LT wanted to take a nice bath, that's exactly what he did. He went to the common baths - because you can say a lot about the man but he isn't a snob - and undressed -" Kaylin unbuttoned the sleeveless vest she'd been wearing over her longsleeved shirt and tossed it onto an empty bar stool for show - "and he got into the water." She went through her knees for a handwidth or two , her hands moving like ripples through water might. She turned around again, looking Nerwen, Zev, Morwen, Tankar and Thûllir in the eye one by one as she told the tale. "The Lieutenant washed up right and proper, and completely missed a figure who was sneaking by. When he got back out of the water -" she straightened her knees out again, once more standing at her full height, "and looked for a towel to dry off, he saw - TO HIS DISMAY - that there were none!" She threw her hands up in the air.

"And - by Manwe - even his clothes had disappeared." Kaylin shook her head in feigned disbelief. "Who, pray, could be so mischievous, so spiteful, to only leave the Lieutenant with one thing...."

She swiped her drink off the bar and took another sip to create tension. Her next words came in a sudden exclamation: "A coconut bra and a straw skirt!"

Slanting her head, her red hair spilling over her shoulder, she made a face. "Well, it was two things I guess."

"No matter! The Lieutenant had a very embarrassing return through the halls of the men's wing. I dare say some of the lads still have nightmares."

She took another sip and waved a hand at her audience. "It goes without saying I deny any and all involvement."
Arnyn ~ Honor & Valor
Kaylin ~ Joy & Strength

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Mourgan

He'd normally forgo the draft houses and Inns but this time he gave in, he was thirsty and a bowl of something wouldn't be a bad thing. Pushing open the door he took a moment to scan the room. Many were there already (Kaylin, Red, Arnyn, Turin and few he didn't know) but they seemed to be in the middle of a good time so opted to look for a quieter seat.
It was then he seen her. His Aunt Veowyn. He was pleased to see her. He approached her. "Good day Aunt Veo." He hadn't seen her in awhile and he was sure his appearance might make her pause. He was no longer the lanky 15 yr. old. Near twenty he stood 6'2" with the build of his father Beren. He ran his hand over his stubbled jaw. "Mind if I join you?"

@Veowyn ( Mind some company? Think of Mourgan as a younger version of Bear. :) )
Isolde Alarion/Rohan~Nelladel Alarion/Gondor~Mourgan Alarion/Gondor ~ Dahak/ Umbar ~ Relic RIP

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Veowyn blinked. Was she still thinking about memories? Before her stood her adopted brother, much as he had been many years before. During the adventures that brought them together as siblings. Trapesing around, getting into trouble, getting each other out of precarious situations. And the evenings spent in similar inns, just laughing with one another. It would be good to have a night like that, she thought. She needed to get out of her own head first... Wait. No. This was not Beren, this was Mourgan!

She had not seen this lad for quite some time! When did he fill out so?! This was not the lanky child she remembered. This was a full grown man! She stood and gave him a hug, without even saying a word yet. He was taller than her, much like his father. Well, even her own son was taller than her now, but she still found Mourgan's height impressive. After a moment, she released her hold, and stepped back. "Mourgan! How have you been my dear boy? Yes, please sit and join me! She motioned to the chair across from her and asked the bar keep to bring some more food out to them.
Veowyn, Vandani, Jakiewyn, Caddrick, Ailura, Túrelia, Vigri, Vinca
Maldir - you are missed

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Mourgan

He wasn't sure of her reaction at first, she seemed..stunned or something but when she stood and hugged him he instantly felt relieved and smiled as he returned her hug with gusto. When she released him he couldn't help but widen his smile. He started to take the offered seat. "I've been well...well, not exactly but seeing you.." he motioned to her." I'm definitly good now." He watched the bar keep a moment. "I've been busy at my farm, it's coming along. "He'd looked back at her and smiled. "And yourself? How's the family? Have you seen my Father lately?" He hoped he didn't sound too curious with that last question. Just then the bar keep returned with some food and Mourgan asked for an ale.
He turned his attention back to her. "It's so great to see you." He couldn't say it enough.
Isolde Alarion/Rohan~Nelladel Alarion/Gondor~Mourgan Alarion/Gondor ~ Dahak/ Umbar ~ Relic RIP

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Red Daghul

"I haven't been to the northern part of the kingdom, I don't think ever. The farthest north I've ever been was to a dwarven stronghold in the Misty Mountains, I don't remember exactly where. It was where I got my second sword made. But as for attracting trouble, my home in the brown lands has actually been quite peaceful. With the folks in Ithilien to the south, and the folks in Lorien and Mirkwood to the north. There have been a couple random bands thieves coming through, but for the most part, probably because it's pretty desolate, it's quiet."Turin seemed to pause looking at the two of them, and there was such peace it was clear to Red that he had found a place to rest, then he began again "You yourself attract some trouble too Red. Yes, I probably had a bigger pull on it, but share some of your woes."

His brother wasn't wrong Red did have his share of trouble come his way in the last few years, honestly the Dunedain might attract same amount just a different kind. "You know I guess I have had my share of stories in the last few years, I blame my cousin Robin he attracts more trouble then the wildest dwarf" he chuckled knowing the Estelwen and Robin were still out and about on their own though they could handle themselves just fine "I have spent the last couple years with my sister and cousin dealing with little bands of orcs and bandits just about all over middle earth".

He faked a pause of a thoughtful moment as if pondering over a checklist "oh and I guess a few trolls and spiders here and there" if was true he had run into way to many creatures he was fine avoiding before "there are some strange things in this world, some better to avoid" he said taking a break and drinking a gulp of his drink then wiping his scruff he just shook his head "It is a lot different then working with a unit like the ERC, I honestly miss most of it... maybe not having to clean up the old commons after a day of messin around" he mused at what he remembers of a pie fight back in the day. His grey eyes seemed alight with excitement that was growing from being around them, it was good.
~Red Daghul~
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Durien was about two bites and half an ale into her meal, when she noticed a familiar figure headed her way. Despite her long life, she had a long memory for names and faces, and she'd met this one long before he remembered meeting her, in a faraway place she doubted he was anxious to return to. She suspected Lôkhî didn't remember that, and she was rather grateful for that for both of their sakes. Otherwise, he'd be raising questions about why she had been there, and her involvement with Nurn extended back to events before the slave fields had existed, and that was tough to explain. Granted, she'd been a bit notorious in Nurn, lending aid to slaves long forgotten by the worlds of men and elves, but she slipped in and out of cultures and races the way others did clothes, and she doubted he would recognize the Gondorian woman in front of him as the dark elven lady on the midnight steed slipping through the shadows bringing whatever hope she could, not that she had ever been able to do much. Besides, she didn't want to remind him of his past. She knew exactly what it was like for those who escaped from beneath the enemy's firm hand. Few would trust him, fewer still would be comfortable living alongside him. Fortunately, she didn't think his past was widely known in the White City, the archenemy had been destroyed, Nurn had recently fallen underneath the reign of Aragorn, and the man had family here in Gondor. His past was behind him, and she had great hopes for his future, even if he was just starting to believe that himself.

Lôkhî! “ Durien smiled and greeted him with pleasure and warmth, although she nearly winced when his name came out of her mouth in the name's native accent rather than that of a Gondorian. Or was he going by Axantur now? That had taken her by surprise. She had never made the connection between the missing Gondorian lad and ….. the other. To be fair, she hadn't exactly known a lad named Axantur had been missing. She hadn't been in Gondor during those particular years. She might as well ask about the name preference though, before she antagonized too far. After all, his skills were legendary in Nurn. “Do you still prefer Lôkhî or shall I call you Axantur?” She imagined the former was more familiar, and latter like a new pair of boots that hadn't softened with time yet, but would be more comfortable in the end.

Pushing back an ebony flyway strand into the braid framing her face, Durien drained the remainder of her mug, then waved a pale bony hand in a graceful motion, beckoning Ioreth for a refill. The lass did so, and Durien waited patiently until the lass had gone out of earshot for to continue. ”It is good to see you again. How are you? What brings you to Minas Tirith?” She didn't usually ask such direct questions, and she wondered if she'd get a response this time or if he'd circumvent answering via one creative way or another.

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"Not exactly, what do you mean not exactly?" Veowyn's eyes narrowed slightly at her nephew. "Any thing I can help with? Her eyes lit back up at the mention of him getting his own farm up and running. She had not even heard that he had been starting one. "Oh! I wish I had known. I would have brought you your own jar of cinnamon! It is good for the soil. It can be used to keep the less than plant friendly bugs from disturbing crops." She wondered how soon she could actually get to Mirkwood and back with more for him. Well, it would be too long, for now she would just enjoy his company. "I did bring some for your mother, however. I intend to bring it to her at the bakery tomorrow."

When he inquired about the family, she noticed his subtle eagerness at hearing after his father. She made a mental note to again chastise her brother for his lack of time with Mourgan. "I actually have not made it to see your father, yet. I had a few cinnamon deliveries to make, here in the city, first. I do hope to see him soon though." She sighed. "Your cousins are well. All 3 of them chose to help with different tasks this trip, I am sure they are up to mischief somewhere in the city, by morning." Veowyn laughed at the thought, knowing that her children were actually in the care of Lady Arwen, and the other elves who stayed more permanently in the city. They certainly could not be up to too much trouble. Not for lack of trying though. "Bellawen is going to be disappointed if she does not get to see you, though. We'll have to make sure to stop by the new farm before we leave Gondor."
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Lôkhî Axantur
He flinched slightly at the sound of his name pronounced properly. And though the motion was small and hidden by his usual grace, he knew Durien had noticed it. He smiled faintly and slipped into a chair. Setting his mug on the table, he angled his chair so he could see the room as well as his companion.

“Mostly I am called ‘Xan, now” he answered smoothly, “though in the City I was called Carver. You may call me Lôkhî, if you wish, though only a few here know that name.” His family had refused to call him by anything but they name they had given him, and it had taken the work of his youngest nephew to get ‘Xan to stick. He’d grown fond of it though, a name that was part of his true name but was more fitting to the man he was trying to become. Lôkhî was a name full of dark memories and pain, and deeds he wished he could forget and Durien’s accent brought back the sound of his master’s voice.

He shifted uneasily, glancing around the Inn before forcing himself to relax again. “What brings me to Minas Tirith? Oh, adult company and noise. I have spent the last year or so in my family home in Pinnath Gelin. My mother insisted I stay for a while, but I needed to return here. A chance to be…well, just me.”

He eyed her thoughtfully. Memories tickled at him, but much was lost to misty time. He felt as though he’d always known her and could not quite remember how they met. But she knew him as Lôkhî, which meant they had met in Nurn or Harad. And her face had never changed in all his memories, which gave him more to think about.

“My father and I are not yet comfortable with each other, he expects me to act like a ‘man of Gondor’. And my mother, bless her, tries so very hard to understand me but I am not what I was as a boy. I will not be what another expects me to be, never again. So, I am giving all of us a break. I have thought of joining the Rangers, or perhaps journeying to Rohan or even to the north.

“But enough of me, I will ramble if you let me. I did not expect to see you here – although, you always managed to turn up when I least expected you.” And that bothered him. Just who was she, anyway? She never felt evil, and he’d learned to sense that in people, and she didn’t belong to the master. But she wasn’t a typical Gondorian either. “What brings you here? Are you staying long?”
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Mourgan
w/ Veowyn


When she asked if there was anything she could help him with he thought about it a moment. "Perhaps later, It's just been a couple of rough years. " he shrugged. He cheered at hearing she had brought some cinnamon with her. "I'd hate to waste your good cinnamon on my crops but I'll try anything." He grinned. "You're taking some to Mother? " He instantly thought of all the goods things his mother was going to bake using Veowyns famed cinnamon. "I'll be sure to stop by and take advantage of all things she's going to be baking with it." he chuckled.

He sipped his ale as she explained she hadn't seen his Father and she had some deliveries to take care of in the city. "That's alright, I should have made the time to go see him myself. No excuse I suppose. " He shrugged and took another drink but hearing of his busy cousins he smiled. He'd missed them and to hear they were doing well made him happy.

"I'd love to see her. I'll be heading back there soon, maybe we could travel together, it's not far and I could load you up with some vegetables and fruits. It was a good year for those things. Besides, I want your opinion on a new apple I've grown. It's called a "Gondorian Honeycrisp"...sweet but firm...it isn't mushy, a good baking apple I think. " He grinned as an idea popped into his head. "We should bake them with some of your cinnamon. I bet that would make a great pie!" His grin widened and turned slightly lopsided at such an idea.
Isolde Alarion/Rohan~Nelladel Alarion/Gondor~Mourgan Alarion/Gondor ~ Dahak/ Umbar ~ Relic RIP

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Zev laughed uproariously at Kaylin's tale, still standing on the table, which shook with his mirth. Morwen eyed him with a bit of concern, (well more for the table than him; he could take a tumble), but the table looked sturdy enough, despite the leap he had taken onto it.

"Well, Kaylin," she began, slowly clapping, "I might have to cast my vote for your st-" But Zev didn't let her finish.

"Wait, wait!" he cried, running a hand through now soaking, (if slightly closer to its original white), hair. Truly, he only succeeded in rubbing dust and dirt in a sort of vague mud paste, which left smears on his face as he pondered his next move. He leaped down from the table suddenly, and stopped in front of Morwen. He muttered to her, probably too low for anyone else to hear. But he was excited. "Could I borrow a bit of coin? I've got some, but I don't know if it's enough. Morwen seemed to consider this for a moment, then shrugged and emptied a handful of money into his hand. He grinned widely. "You're my favourite! he crowed. Morwen rolled her eyes, fairly certain of where this was going.

"A dozen mini meat pies, please," Zev called to the barkeep, dropping coin onto the counter. Then he meandered back to the group, knowing the food would take a bit of time. "Well, friends; this story could be told, in full; the way the battle raged, ducking behind couches and chairs," He dropped his voice slightly, gesturing them all nearer, "But wouldn't it be far more effective as a re-enactment?"
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Kaylin

At Morwen's words, Kaylin was feeling rather pleased, but Zev didn't let her finish. Kaylin snickered at the collection of dust, dirt, drink and mud that was now all over him. He begged Morwen for something, and it struck Kaylin for a moment that it could have looked like a scene between a mother and a son - even though it obviously wasn't. Her grin turned wry for a moment - but the edge was gone the instant she heard Zev ordered a dozen mini meat pies.

Her jaw all but dropped. He wasn't- He wouldn't- Nooooooo. Yes?
She blinked at Zev when he turned back to them and explained he was planning to do exactly what Kaylin thought even Zev couldn't actually REALLY be planning: recreate the fight at the barracks!

It took her a few heartbeats to really believe he was serious. And then a huge grin mastered her face. "Hold up, hold up!" she exclaimed, laughing. "I'd rather end up covered in sweetness than meat and peas! You couldn't have ordered some fruit pies instead?" In her mind, she was already two steps ahead, thinking of the aftermath as well as the... um, cleanup. She fought the urge to glance at Thûllir. With the thoughts passing through her mind, now was not the time to look at him. Regardless, a little blush found its way to her cheeks as she went back to her drink. After finishing it, she felt giddy and careless enough to call out to the owner.

"Haldecar! Is there any way you could turn those meat pies, or at least some of them, into sweeter, dessert varieties? I'll gladly pay extra if that helps! Maybe you even have a few ready to go?" People liked dessert, after all. He might have two or three large fruit pies already made...

Haldecar frowned at them. He hadn't heard Zev's words, since he had spoken more quietly, but Kaylin hadn't lowered her voice before. "I have two apple pies and two cherry ones in the back, yes," he drawled, very unsure of what the party was planning to do with them.

Kaylin pointedly looked at Zev. "Well?" she asked, wanting to know his input. "It would make it more authentic, too..."
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Thûllir Bregedŷr

Introductions were being made, and it seemed to Thûllir that they were likely to be at the pub some time. Might as well get a bit more comfortable. Unslinging his light travel pack and the quiver from his back, he tucked them and his bow safely against a wall near the bar before returning to Kaylin’s side.
In the meantime, more had been added to the number by the table.The energy that Kaylin had was one that was contagious, and it seemed that a drinking and story contest was the next thing on the agenda or already begun if he counted glasses on the bar already. Thûllir gave a shake of his head and a smile at the open invitation to join in the drinking contest. “Just tea, thanks.” He wanted all of his wits about him for a while longer yet, especially since Kaylin seemed to also be in a mood for reminiscing if the blush he had seen at the mention of Linhir was anything to go by.

The cloud of dust that came off the young man called Zev was truly a sight to behold, and Thûllir was grateful that his food was slow in arriving. He could sense Kaylin’s joy at the turn of events, confirmed by her laughter and the simple leaning into him for a moment. Thûllir decided it might be best to include her in the food order, and motioned to Iorean to double the amount of food just as Zev began to regale them with his story. Kaylin, however was quite wrapped up in the tale telling. "He might be worse than I am," she grinned at Thûllir, obviously over the moon. "How glorious." At that comment, Thûllir turned back in time to see Zev jump up on the table next to them with full tankards of ale that had quite the momentum behind them...Thûllir turned his head away just in time as the extra spray that flew out caught them. He had to agree with her. “Aye, I would say he is worse in that he causes more chaos.” He lifted his mug of tea in acknowledgement of a story well-told, if rather dramatically.

His wife, however, was still driven to compete with that story, and quickly waded into the depths of her own, keeping them all enthralled as she acted out the humiliation of the barracks master. Thûllir watched and listened with a quiet smile on his lips, as he had heard the story told before. It was good to see her in her element, and he joined in clapping at the end of her tale. Iorean delivered the food at that point, and he accepted the welcome distraction of food to ease his hunger. It had been a long journey from Ithilien, and trail food just didn’t fill the belly with the same satisfaction as well-made stew.

Pies? Fruit pies instead of savory...What? Thûllir gave first Zev and then Kaylin a perplexed look for a second before his distracted brain caught up at the sight of the flush on her cheeks and he reviewed the words he had heard the young man utter. Reenact a battle eh? There was a high chance of an enormous mess to clean up, and he didn’t plan to get involved. His gaze shot back to Kaylin as she slammed back her drink, and his eyebrows lifted. Ah...well maybe if he chanced to get hit it wouldn’t be all bad, although he had no desire to be cleaning sugar off his leather gear. Hearing Haldecar unwittingly add confirmation of the presence of pies, Thûllir decided it would be kinder to forestall said battle.

Clearing his throat, he pushed off from his bar stool and took the floor. Being the center of attention was never his preference, but he could endure it on occasion. “Before pies start flying, I would like to share my own story. Besides, I prefer enjoying pies as food rather than war paint.” He bowed and gestured to the small audience. “I am not a tall tale teller, but I am a bard of sorts. Thus, pay heed. My tale is not one of comedy, but one of danger from my years in Ithilien before the coming of the King. It is not of Minas Tirith as you asked for Nerwen, but it does keep the theme of the military that has been present so far.”

Kaylin would recognize his tale, but none other here present had heard it. He bowed his head briefly, and then began in a quiet tone. “I was out working with a newer initiate on patrol in the north of Ithilien. We weren’t all that far from where the road turns to the Morrannon, but a good deal south of the Dead Marshes, when we stumbled upon a raiding party that had issued forth from the gates and had struck out for the trail toward the River north of Cair Andros. I believe they were going to traverse the Nindalf and cross the River to Rohan south of Rauros Falls...or at least north of the mouth of the Entwash. We were badly outnumbered, being only two Rangers to their three squads, so the ideal course of action was to hide or retreat before we were spotted. It was not to be.”
He lifted his head and explained. “There is little cover in those parts. It is mostly rolling grassy and sparsely forested hills, leading into the denser brush of the wetlands, unlike a little further south where it is more densely wooded.” The others likely knew these details, but in case they didn’t, he had been thoroughly instructed as a scout in how to give his stories the necessary details. He wasn’t about to give the initiate’s name either, although he had acted bravely. His story would be over-embellished if it were to be told. Thûllir would not spare them, but neither would he make it to be more than it was. The truth of his tale was bad enough. Wetting his lips lightly with his tongue, he glanced at the others briefly before continuing. “They spotted us, and decided that we were easy prey and a good diversion before they continued on their raiding path. From there it was a fast pursuit. There is a northern promontory of the Emyn Arnen there on the edges of the Nindalf, and it was there I led them first. It was an exhausting run, although we lasted long enough for daybreak. That found us on the western slopes of that mountain, and while our enemy was hiding from the brightest of the dawn light we too had to rest. There we parted ways after a little while of recuperation, as I wanted to ensure that the initiate at least made it home to report. We were still at least a good day or so away from refuge, so I sent him for the River to find one of the coracles we have stashed there, and then mounted an assault to draw their attention while he escaped.”
Thûllir’s eyes sought Kaylin’s then. He had thought of her in those moments before he attacked and later when he had time to fear for his life again and could not act. He still remembered that feeling well. “I snuck up on them and managed to kill or injure only five before they roused their anger enough to brave the sun and return the attack. My luck then was that I was a better archer than they and I wasn’t slowed by the sun. I ran up the mountain to where there was no tree cover and then cut across to the east and toward the Great Road, so as to lead them away from the River and my companion’s escape. I was lucky that no stone rolled under me in that dash, as all would have been lost. My greatest moment of danger, however, came later after the full day of chase that I survived. We had rounded the mountain on the eastern edge, and I cut southeast. As the sun fell behind the White Mountains they gained strength as I weakened from the long run.”
He cleared his dry throat and ventured a small sip of his tea. After a slight wince, he went on with a shake of his head. “The wind had been against me all day, carrying my scent to them so they could track me even when I was out of sight. With the evening the breezes finally turned slightly in my favor…that kept me alive, for by then the front few occasionally caught up. We had a few sharp and short running battles before I knew I could run no further. I put on a last spurt to get to a more wooded and rocky area ahead of them just off the road, and there I hid myself, wedged well in a cleft between two rocks that were covered by low gorse and twisted trees. The Valar must have been watching over me then, for even the cross-breeze stilled as they spread out and searched, so my scent was no longer broadcast. I wouldn’t have been able to fight from my position, so had to trust in my skill at hiding. My worst moment was when one actually trod on my ankle…it hurt horribly, but I could make no sound when it ground into the rock. If he had stepped on any softer point in my body it would have been over, but I think he took the limb for a fallen branch or root that he could not see in the brush and continued on.”
A faint smile finally touched his lips. “I lay there motionless in exhaustion and no small pain until they gave up finally and turned toward the river once more. They are dogged creatures though, so I waited over an hour before I poked my nose out into the night and hobbled my way back slowly to the refuge. A stronger outbound patrol of Rangers caught up with me before I reached safety, sent by the Captain at the report of my safely returned initiate. He had made it down the River and to the refuge in good time and without further incident. I was happy to give them the details and let them take the hunt to my previous pursuers. Most times it is my task to do that, but we occasionally must know when taking a knee is the wiser course. This is my tale, and it is true. Judge it as you will.”
Thûllir bowed slightly as he finished his tale. It may have dimmed the merriment it was true, but there were more tales to be told than just the ones of laughter and pranks. "You may now commence with the pie flinging if you wish." Might as well give them a reason to do so.
Ziranphel of the Green Hills ~ Thûllir Bregedŷr of Ithilien

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Kaylin

Oh, she knew why suddenly two servings of food ended up with Thûllir. He had ordered something for her, as well, wanting her to eat right if she was drinking. She looked at the food with some resignation when Thûllir said he would tell a tale of danger from Ithilien. She had heard most if not all his stories, and at the first few sentences she knew which one he'd chosen, so she begrudgingly digged into the stew.

She had to admit the stew was scrumptious, and by the time Thûllir had gotten halfway though his story and tried to share a look with her, Kaylin was digging into her plate as if she were starved. To be fair, it felt like she was. Drinking did give her an appetite, but she only noticed when she actually put food into her mouth. At her husband's pause, she looked up to find his eyes, and her fork stilled momentarily as she gave him a little nod.
In Ithilien at the time, danger had been... all around him. While those woods weren't exactly save yet now - there were still minions roaming - at least they were without a guide. Kaylin had gained some peace after the conclusion of the War of the Ring in that regard, and while Thûllir still went out to Ithilien and while she still worried when he was gone, as she was sure he did about her as well, the edge to her worry had softened. An immensively comforting feeling. One of her hands went for a third glass, which she grabbed and sipped without looking at it.

Proceeding somewhat slower with the stew after that little moment - which basically just meant she was no longer inhaling the food, but actually chewing it properly - she listened into the rest of Thûllir's story with more attention. Her husband was a serious man; he tended to keep his moments of humor solely for those closest to him. Kaylin heavily suspected intentions on his part to create some order in the chaos and some kill into their buzz. So to speak.

Her blue-grey eyes narrowed as she watched him take a small bow to the group. "Yeeeeeees," she drawled. Judge it, indeed. She put her drink back down on the bar, right nexto one of the apple pies Haldecar had just put there. Kaylin thought it was high time for one of those moments Thûllir's parents described as her bringing a bit of spice into their son's life.

"You may now commence with the pie flinging if you wish."

Even as his lips were still forming the words, Kaylin picked up the apple pie and, ine one fluid movement, hurled it at Thûllir's face. It didn't really fit in with Zev's plans to reenact the scene at the barracks, but it would serve to make a point Kaylin felt had to be made: Thûllir might be able to shift the mood one way, but she was quite capable of shifting it right back...
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Thûllir Bregedŷr
He should have expected it given the way that Kaylin had been looking at him with narrowed eyes, but it still caught Thûllir slightly off guard when a pie came flying at his face as soon as he left off speaking. He managed not to duck, barely, but it would not have been appropriate to inflict pies on innocent bystanders. Instead, his right hand snapped up on instinct to catch the pie...which proceeded to break apart and disintegrate into chunks of flying pastry, apples, and sugary goo.

Thûllir was left holding a handful of pie, with the rest of it splattered over his face (except for the eyes he had covered), beard, hair, armor and tunic...and anyone who had been inside pie projectile range.
He stilled as bits of pie fell with quiet splats to the ground, and then calmly tasted some of the pie from the handful remaining in his fist, even as his eyes danced with humor. “Mmmm….that is quite good. Thank you love for your...splendid gift.” If others had started winging pies as well, he would barely have noticed.

Thûllir’s sober face lit then as he broke into a wide grin. Not caring that there was an audience anymore, he had to tease his wife. “It's even apple pie, which you know I like. I really do think you should try some as well.” While he spoke, he moved. Two quick strides forward, and he was offering Kaylin a taste by presenting the whole fistful of pie a breath away from her nose.
Ziranphel of the Green Hills ~ Thûllir Bregedŷr of Ithilien

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Kaylin

Thûllir was quick enough to raise a hand in time, but the way a great chunk of it splat all over him - and the people around him... A satisfied smile spread across Kaylin's face. Once the bits and pieces of pie had settled, and he took a bite of the pie he'd caught with his hand, her smile grew into a huge grin. The humor in his eyes connected with her own mischievous nature, and she absolutely reveled in one of those rare public moments where Thûllir let go of his serious nature for a little while. "You're welcome," she said in response to his thanks, but even though she'd wanted it to come out light-heartedly, her tone was rather low.

The next moment, he had taken two steps closer and was holding his handful of pie right in front of her face. Seeing his grin, she couldn't lose her own even if she tried. Not even thinking about it, she bit a huge mouthful of what he was presenting to her - not giving two figs that she got pie on her nose and chin as well in the process. "Mmhm," she nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off his face and that rather perfect grin. Once she'd swallowed, she licked her lips but ignored the rest of the apple pie on her face. "Yeah, it's very good."

What an excellent opening to a pie foodfight. Who was going to be involved in it, again?
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Nerwen, a dwarfette

With a speed and dexterity that did not equate with the amount she had drunk, Nerwen pulled herself up and over to avoid the first pie which went flying to Thûllir. She landed smartly next to Ioraen who had been doing something with the glasses. Nerwen gave her a sheepish smile and said, "Dwarf. Bars..." gesturing to herself in explanation. Nerwen then turned her attention away from the gentle Gondorian maid and focussed on the four, palm sized fruit pies in front of her. Sneakily, she peered up over the bar to pick a target, her eyebrows furrowed and chewing her lip in concentration. With many years of axe throwing, barrel rolling and boot tossing, Nerwen quickly hefted one pie at Morwen and the second at Zev. If her calculations were correct, they should be pie-eyes!
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Zev was surprised when the serious looking man, Thûllir, spoke up, announcing that he wished to share a story. He noticed, however, that Kaylin immediately dug into her stew and stopped looking at her husband; and he didn’t have to wonder long why that was. The mood shifted into seriousness as he leaned forward, engrossed almost against his wishes.

As the tale came to an end, Morwen leaned forward suddenly and remarked, with a smirk, “Why Zev, I’ve never heard you stay quiet for so long. Thûllir, I don’t know what your magic is, but I’ll be needing some of that.” He took a good natured swipe at her, but she blocked it easily and cuffed him lightly on the side of the head. “Still too slow!” But before they could continue, Zev’s ears perked up at Thûllir’s next words: “You may now commence with the pie flinging, if you wish.” Zev glanced around, seeing the pies that had slowly filled their tables, some meat and many fruit (Kaylin was right, sweet pies were better, but also-- wouldn’t it be funny to watch peas and gravy running down someone’s face?), but before he could make a move, there was a glorious SPLAT, and Thûllir was left holding a pile of pie goop. He had good reflexes. Zev made a quick mental note of that, before glancing back at Kaylin, who was grinning too widely to be innocent.

She didn’t remain clean for long, as the now pie plastered man offered his wife some of the pie. Kaylin was a person after his own heart, and took a large bite, smearing her face fully with glazed fruit and crust crumbs. But things were picking up now, and he saw Nerwen make a movement out of the corner of his eye. Unfortunately, his distraction was enough that her first pie took him full in the face. He let out an elated guffaw. This was shaping up to be even better than the barracks! He wished that Pele were here.

Morwen was a bit quicker than Zev; she was less interested in getting covered in pie. She saw the movement, and took a running leap into a nearby table, pulling it over with her as she fell. Well, she might not always be light and fun, but Zev certainly couldn’t say she wasn’t committed. She now had a basic barricade, and she glanced over-- there were two pies sitting on the bar, but to get them, she would have to stand up, exposing herself entirely. Casting about for a distraction, she caught a low whistle near her. It was Zev, he had ducked down and was eating pie out of his muddy hair. He was disgusting sometimes. It was a berry pie, and deep purple and red streaks now coloured his face and hair (which, by the way, was drying into weird stiff peaks from all the dirt and sticky mead and beer.) He was an utter mess. Still better than when they came in, though.

He flashed her a few hand signals-- they had come up with a basic set of silent communication while they were on the road together. He would create a distraction. She leaned back. Excellent. He was good at those. Well, there was only one thing he could think to call out at a time like this. An old mentor of his back in Dol Amroth used to approve of things like this. He would call out his name to honor him. Good old Leeroy.

Zev jumped to his feet and shouted, “LEEEROY JENNKINS!” and presented a most excellent target for all participants. He hoped Morwen was taking advantage of his distraction.

And she certainly was. Morwen stood in one fluid movement, and scooped two pies from the counter. Turning back toward the group, she immediately loosed them, one at Thûllir and one at Kaylin, before ducking back down as swiftly as she could. As they left her hands, she caught the savory aroma of meat and potatoes. Well, that was going to be fun to clean up if it landed.
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Kaylin

She hardly noticed Nerwen's assault on Morwen and Zev. The dwarfette had been rather quiet about it, after all, and Kaylin's mind had been elsewhere entirely. Under different circumstances, she would have regretted missing Zev getting hit as splendidly as he did. Right now, however, she was otherwise engaged - and she never regretted any of these moments.

It was Zev's loud outburst of laughter that started pulling her out of her fixation, and the loud exclamation of some strange name she' never heard the like of before that yanked her back to the pub. She glanced over in Zev's direction, catching Morwen's movements dangerously closeby.

Even as the woman snatched two pies from the counter, Kaylin's mind was racing far faster than her body could follow. Morwen meant to target them, she was sure of it - and that sent Kaylin spinning into a high-speed thought flurry. It wasn't so much being targeted herself that was the problem; Kaylin could take it as well as she dealt it out.
Rather it was the idea that Morwen was targeting Thûllir that caused her brain to short-circuit. It was one thing for Kaylin to hit him with a pie, but for someone ELSE to try... someone ELSE to try and smash a pie into HER man... That kind of daring, that kind of NERVE... It was unacceptable.

She could sidestep her pie, she knew. And Thûllir might be able to evade his pie, as well - he had the reflexes for it. But she couldn't be sure that he would. And if he didn't, Morwen would have succeeded, and no one - NO ONE - got to hit Thûllir with pies other than Kaylin herself.

Fuelled by her indignation, Kaylin made a snap decision. She took one, deliberate step, right in front of Thûllir, using one arm to shield half her face, the other to push Thûllir back a bit more- farther away from Morwen's pies. The pie meant for Kaylin sailed into nothingness, but the one aimed at Thûllir hit her partly on the arm shielding her face and partly on her cheek and chin. Her lips parted after the initial shock of the impact had subsided. The scent of meat, gravy and potatoes wrestled its way into her nose.

"Ugh!" The sentiment left her wholeheartedly, and she wiped part of the mess off her face with a grossed out look. This is why she'd wanted to focus on the fruity variety. She had less issues getting that thrown into her mouth, honestly. "YOU are in SUCH deep trouble!" she bellowed at Morwen, while she grabbed the pie the closest to her and threw the most important food fight rule out of the window: instead of throwing the pie, she just charged Morwen head on, pie in hand, fully intending to bury it into the woman's scarred face.
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Kaylin ~ Joy & Strength

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The pork pie was delicious, she noted absently as she casually took a bite while pretending not to notice the barely perceptible wince of Lôkhî Axantur after she said his name. Eru curse it all, she should have been more careful to give the name a Gondorian accent. She actually quite liked the name Lôkhî, but she cared more about what the name meant to the man than how much she liked the sound of it. Xan, then.” She said, caressing the name with her lips as she tried it out. She'd get used to it. ”So be it.” A smile tugged the right corner of her mouth upwards as she noted his unease. It took some time to learn to relax, especially when it had been forbidden for years. ”Are you hungry? The pork pie here is particularly good.” Now she sounded like a hobbit. A mental image of Xan visiting Hobbiton passed through her mind, and it amused her. He'd like Hobbiton, and while still secretive, the hobbits had become more open to visitors from Gondor now that the King sometimes visited the Prancing Pony on his way to Arnor on rare occasions. Of course, one had to know a hobbit in order to find Hobbiton, and it just so happened that she did. Now that she thought about it, it wasn't a bad idea.

Breaking from her thoughts, Durien listened carefully to the man in front of her. He was here because he needed the chance to be himself. She understood. They still expected him to a grown version of the boy they had known, but he wasn't, he couldn't and never would be. That boy had a life's worth of experiences and training that simply didn't vanish overnight. Suddenly, she realized he was looking at her quite thoughtfully and intently, and immediately a hand went to her hair, the braided sides covering the tops of her pointed ears, an absent check to remind herself that the one feature which identified her as something other than Gondorian was still hidden from plain view. She almost sighed aloud from relief. He was starting to suspect, starting to remember what she thought he hadn't and wouldn't. Time would tell if he put it together or not, but she decided against aiding him at this moment in time. As his attention turned to her, she smiled back at him. ”Ramble on, please.” She waved a hand as if to encourage him to continue. ”I'm far more interested in hearing what you have to say than in listening to my own voice.” Although true, the curve of her lips also told her visitor she was aware a conversation meant two people engaged in dialogue, not just one. Naturally, taciturn, Durien would be content to listen without speaking for long lengths of time.

“Your pleasure in seeing me would be far less if you expected me.” Durien commented, her expression giving nothing away, although she was amused at his attempt, likely unintentional, to extract information to explain some of the vagueness in his memories of her. There was one question at least that she could answer, in some vague way, for she had returned to Minas Tirith for a list of reasons. “Oh, I returned for many reasons.” She started vaguely. ”Mainly, because it was time to.” Which was true, but the list of reasons for her return was too long for a single conversation, so she selected a few easy ones to explain. “I own a small cartography shop here in the city in joint with a family. I provide the details and information necessary for producing accurate and quality maps of all areas of Middle Earth. The family here ran the store and created works of art out of the blue prints I provided.” Her smile vanished for a moment. ”Most of the family passed in the war, but the youngest of the family, a good lad by the name of Ranadil, survived along with his mother, who was crippled from a rock thrown by the enemy's trebuchets. I originally came to sell the shop and close out my interest in it, but Ranadil changed my mind.” She shrugged and drank a long swallow from her glass. If she was honest with herself, Ranadil hadn't changed her mind so much as she hadn't had the heart to leave the hard-working nearly penniless boy without a job as well as family. Without her the shop could not exist, for Ranadil had not the experience, knowledge nor training to visit a land and then transfer what the eyes saw to flat paper with accuracy.

Xan's last question had caused shadows to pass through her emerald eyes. For how long? Wasn't that the question she asked herself every day? From what she could gather, there were only three others of her kind left in Middle Earth, and the sea called to her, as it had from the day she was born. The sea was in her blood, but she had spent the better part of her lifetime denying its call, but this was different. This was a call to pass westward. All the others had gone, and it might seem she was destined to stay in Middle Earth, but from birth she had been trained in the art of sailing. She could still go if she so chose. In her heart, she knew was not yet ready to go, but the question remained, how much longer would she stay? Til tomorrow? Til the end of time? Although that was not what Xan had meant, for he meant only how much longer she planned to stay in Minas Tirith, the way the question was worded, plainly as it was, it had thrown her momentarily out of stride. She took another bite to gather her thoughts. ”I am not certain.” She finally replied. ”I am loath to leave Ranadil as I fear overwhelming him, though there is little I can yet teach him.” Here she smiled. ”I never was particularly good at actually running the shop, so he is far better at the daily tasks than I ever was. I primarily back the venture financially, and create the blue prints from which the maps are made. Creating an accurate blue print though means I need to travel to those lands and see them for myself. Since the end of the war, the land between here and the western sea has greatly changed, particularly Arnor, and maps are great demand.” She spread her pale hands with their slender almost bony fingers. ”So as you can see, I must soon go, but I am not quite ready to leave.” It was but a minor quandry in her life. Historically, most of the blue prints she had given to the shop were by-products of her wandering travels, but in this new age, so much had changed that the need for a new blue print was driving her to travel. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that.

Thinking about the shop, her need to travel, and her desire to leave the business in other capable hands in later years to come, an idea started to form, built upon her imagining Xan in Hobbiton. ”Thinking of traveling, are you?” She said distractedly, his mention of perhaps journeying to Rohan or to the north echoing in her mind. ”Would you perhaps be interested in learning a new trade that you could ply here in Gondor while traveling quite extensively?” Durien asked with a gleam in her eye. It would be nice to travel with someone for awhile, as she taught him the skills she had learned from her father before his death when she was still fairly young. His maps were highly prized among men and elves alike, although she never claimed her kinship with him when she sold hers. Perhaps Xan wouldn't be interested in traveling with her, or in learning the skill at all. She could still ask.

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Thûllir Bregedyr
That smile. Thûllir had been unsure on whether or how his lady would respond to his teasing, but the grin and following actions kept him rather distracted. His normally acute senses failed him utterly when the pie battle continued around them, and it wasn’t until Kaylin shifted to step in front of him and turned away to block an incoming pie as she shoved him away that he fully regained his awareness.

He tilted his head with curiosity at her response to her friend’s pie attack, and then he leaned back against the bar with dawning amusement when she launched herself across the intervening space with pie in hand. Should he engage as well? Na. She’s got this. He had done his part and was quite content to watch while keeping a wary eye out for further attacks. Picking up his abandoned mug of now quite tepid tea, he took a sip and then nibbled on the fistful of apple pie that remained in his right hand.
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Nerwen, hiding from pies

Nerwen's first pie took Zev full in the face and she heard him give an elated guffaw, probably in joy at the free and swiftly delivered food. Eyes level with the bar, Nerwen also got a great view of Morwen's running leap onto a table, and watched as she pulled it over with her as she rolled, creating a shield for herself. While there was a pause in the pie throwing, Nerwen weighed up her options. Currently she had a great spot, hidden (mostly), with easy access to pies and booze. Speaking of, she sneaked a hand upwards to the optics and helped herself to a measure of amber liquid. She threw it back with a "AH!" and smacked her lips just as she heard a huge shout of “LEEEROY JENNKINS!”. Still holding her shot glass, the dwarfette peeked up again in time to see Morwen stand, scoop up two pies in her hands and then launch them a Thullir and Kaylin respectively before shooting back behind her table. As quickly as she could, Nerwen grabbed another hand sized fruit pie from the side, following up Morwen's meat and potato offering with some sweet berry right towards Thullir's face.
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Lôkhî Axantur
‘Xan settled in to listen to Durien, both amusement and concentration showing on his face. He’d learned over the last months to allow his expression to be labile, though many still considered him stern looking and fierce. He absently waved away her offer of dinner; though greatly appreciated, he needed to finish adjusting to the noise and people before he could eat in so public a place. That thought rankled a little, but he couldn’t erase so many years of habits in a few months.

“Ranadil? The lad who…” he trailed off, focusing on her words again. He’d admired the maps in Ranadil’s shop, though he’d never had the spare coin or the true need to buy one. But he had enjoyed studying the finely wrought lines and detailed flourishes.

“I’ve seen the maps, they’re lovely” he finished simply. “I had no idea they were your work. I never had the skill for drawing such fine work, or perhaps the patience for it.” He frowned slightly, then remembered to ease the expression despite the memories playing in his mind. He’d been instructed in coded writing, symbols and different scripts. And had been beaten time and again because he couldn’t draw, or transcribe the elven scripts in a legible fashion. His writing was sure and bold, never given to dainty lines or narrow letters. ‘Xan could, given time and quiet, copy the shapes of leaves and plants and transcribe ledgers in a bold hand, but that was a far cry from the work he’d seen in Ranadil’s shop.

“I’ve wondered who drew them, or brought the information. Ranadil has been very close mouthed about his business partner, now I understand why!” he grinned at her, sipped his brew and nearly choked at her last words and pointed look.

“You…want-“ he coughed, cleared his throat and chuckled. “I’d travel with you, and gladly. But I am no cartographer. Even the childer say my drawing is hopeless. I’d be willing to try, perhaps you’d be a better teacher than the ma- than my previous teachers, but while I can promise to be a diligent student, I’m probably not a talented one.”
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Thûllir Bregedyr

Thûllir had been quite well distracted by watching his wife’s charge, and although he had meant to keep an eye on the dwarfette, he had not yet gotten that far. While he was taking a bite of the pie in his hand, he sensed motion to his right but didn’t process in time to avoid the hand-pie full of sweet berries that struck his bearded jaw.
It startled a laugh out of him that turned into a grin when he realized where the pie had come from. Hiding behind the bar at close range, eh?

Ignoring the berries and brilliant red juice that slid down his cheek, Thûllir responded swiftly by slamming his mug down again and simultaneously dunking the remaining apple pie that he held in his hand over the bar at Nerwen’s head. He hadn’t planned to continue with the food battle, but had no problem responding once engaged.
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Zev caught the expression on Kaylin’s face, and saw the hint of imminent danger before she did. It seemed she wasn’t a fan of anyone throwing pies at Thûllir. Zev couldn’t help it, this made for an interesting challenge. He ducked down to keep an eye on how this would unfold.

Morwen peered up above the table as Kaylin took the brunt of the pie meant for Thûllir after ducking her own easily. Interesting. She seemed to think her husband couldn’t take a direct hit. But she did not have much time to think on that, for Kaylin's gaze fixed on her furiously, and she realized she had underestimated the red haired woman’s ire. Before she could think to respond, the woman was charging toward her.

Morwen decided it best if she stood and took this full on. If Kaylin charged straight into this table, she might actually injure herself. She had seen that level of wildness in a soldier’s eyes before, and Kaylin was on a warpath. She gave a soft sigh, and stood up, shifting just enough to avoid the pie, which went over her shoulder, but was possibly still in Kaylin’s grip. The woman barrelled straight into her, and Morwen felt all the air leave her with a loud gasp. This is what she got for being nice. Pfft.

Zev saw that this was the perfect moment. Kaylin was distracted, and Thûllir seemed to be content to stand back and watch what was happening. In fact, he was sipping tea. Oh, that would not stand. He saw one pie near him, and hefted it quickly into his hand. He needed more. He didn’t see another nearby whole pie, but there was a large glop of meat pie filling from the pie that had exploded on Kaylin’s arm. He knelt quickly and scooped it up, eyeing his target.

In the time it took him to do so, Queen Nerwen suddenly appeared from behind the bar, and another pie went sailing toward Thûllir. It seemed she had had the same thought as Zev. He watched Thûllir take the remaining bit of pie in his hand and lob it across the bar to where the dwarf had taken up refuge. Well, that distraction would do as well as the first.

Without another thought, Zev launched the full pie, and the handful of meat pie directly at the back of Thûllir’s head while he was distracted with the dwarf.
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Kaylin

The two women fell over together, falling down behind the table. The pie meant for Morwen's face missed her and ended up partially squished into the floor as Kaylin used her hands not to smash face down into the golden-eyes woman she was attacking. Still, a good deal of the pie remained in the redhead's hand - and she tried to rub it into Morwen's ears, nose, mouth - anywhere, really - as they rolled around the floor of the Guesthouse.

Even as she tried to get the pie all over Morwen, Kaylin lost most of her anger in favor of the humor she saw in the situation, and she couldn't help but to start laughing out loud!

Meanwhile, Haldecar had had quite enough. While he was glad he'd sold many pies that night, he didn't appreciate the clean up this food fight would require - and it was getting out of hand. Severely out of hand. They were overturning tables now, hiding behind his bar - who knew what was next!?

"ENOUGH!" he bellowed, right as two pies had been hurled at Thûllir and were still sailing through the air...
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Durien couldn't resist the briefest flicker of a full smile as 'Xan paused after saying Ranadil's name. The Gondorian was once again rearranging in his mind the facts he knew about her as well as the shop and the lad who mostly ran it. She felt a slight twinge of guilt about the amount of mental agility 'Xan needed to exercise every time he learned a new detail about her. Eru knew the man had enough going on in his mind already. She realized he was focusing on her words, and stayed silent as he thought it through. She was pleased he thought the maps were lovely however.

"Thank you." The raven haired lady responded just as simply. "They are quite exquisite, but I take no credit for the artistry, only for the accuracy. Randail is in fact the artist, I am merely the maker. Meaning, I set the distances, the landmarks and locations on a rough copy. He transcribes them onto a blank canvas and turns them into the works of art that they are." She took a swig of her ale. "Ranadil knows I prefer to be a silent partner in the affair. He may have mentioned seeing you in the shop, but I was not certain as he did not know your name."

As 'Xan nearly choked on her offer, Durien finished off her pork pie with a final bite, carefully chewing and swallowing to keep the amusement off her expression although the laughter still danced through her overly bright green eyes. When he voiced his one concern, she dismissed it casually with a slight wave of her hand. "Although it may seem counterintuitive, the creation of a map is not about your skill with quill and ink. The hard part is out there..." She waved her hand to indicate the world. There was a trace of passion in her voice. "...creating a map is about seeing with the eyes and measuring with the feet. Anyone can create a map if given enough information, but to create an accurate one is to collect the information yourself." She emphasized. Hearing her father's words, her father who had died in ages of elves and men long past, coming from her own mouth startled her a little, but she pressed on. "Yes, some skill is needed to transcribe it to paper, but there are tools to make that easy, and artists to embellish the final result." She chuckled. "Do not worry, those skills I can teach you, no matter your talent for learning them."

Pausing, Durien took a long draught of ale, reflecting with great pleasure on 'Xan's quick agreement to travel with her. She allowed it to reflect on her normally staid expression. Her general lack of expression frustrated many who encountered her as it made her very difficult to read and that caused great discomfort. However, neutrality was art form long perfected out of necessity. Though she no longer needed it, it had turned into a habit difficult to break and required some thought. She turned her focus back to Xan. "Very well, then, that is settled. Next, we must decided when and where to go." She thought for a moment, then sighed. "Nearly the entire world has changed in the last few years, and all of it needs traveled. There is no one place that needs our attention more than another. Is there any particular land you wish to see or path you desire to tread?" She asked him, her gaze and attention settling on him completely as she sat back in her chair. "And when would you be ready to leave?"

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Thûllir Bregedŷr

It took Thûllir but a moment to dunk the pie over the bar, and he was just straightening again when he heard Haldecar’s bellow. His hands both went up to signal that he was done as he finished standing straight again, when a pie hit him between the shoulder blades with a heavy splat that sprayed bits of crust and goo through his hair and down the collar of his shirt, and another glob landed on the cloak further down his back. The first smelled of tart cherries, while the other was a meat pie of some variety. Thûllir turned to see who had thrown them, scattering shards of pie as he moved. Only one could be the culprit, and he shook his head at Zev with a wry grin even as his eyes narrowed. Tricksy that one, and not a move he would soon forget.

Thûllir didn’t retaliate however, choosing instead to honor Haldecar’s request. It was his pub after all. He turned back to the barkeep with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry about the mess. May as well keep the rest of the purse contents. Compliments to the chef on the pie flavor, even if I didn’t actually eat much of it.” He lowered his hands and looked down at himself and the mess of his once semi-clean clothing. At least he had stashed his gear earlier away from the current chaos. He didn’t want to think of cleaning pie goop out of fletching or off his bowstring.

He looked around for his wife, not sure what state that tussle had gotten to. Rather than stepping in, he chose to let his voice be his signal. Thûllir swept a rather uncharacteristically theatrical bow to those around, and addressed them all before moving to collect his gear. “It has been quite the experience meeting you all, and this will be a night to remember. May you each find what you are looking for in this fair city, and I bid you farewell until we meet again.”

Thûllir licked his fingers and then swiped his hands semi clean with the sleeve of his shirt before stepping over to pick up his pack, quiver, and bow, and gingerly sling them over his left shoulder. He looked for Kaylin and tilted his head in question. “I need to go home and clean up. Are you coming or staying longer?”
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Kaylin

She was having a wonderful time trying to bury Morwen's face in food. What a night! She grinned when she heard Thûllir's voice. He had indulged her at length, she supposed. Time to return the favor. "I'll go with," she told Thûllir. Letting go of Morwen slowly, she got to her feet. "You can relax," she laughed. "We're done here for the night." It had been good to get into shenanigans with the woman, really. Sometimes all it took was some silliness and a bit of a tussle to smooth over the past, right?

After getting to her feet and pointlessly brushing some pie off her sleeve, she gave Haldecar a sorry look. She half expected him to demand them to help with cleaning up the part of his establishment that had gotten somewhat... coated. But to be fair, most of it was on the people rather than the floor. It wasn't that bad, all things considered. And the other patrons weren't bothered at all it seemed, so all in all it had turned out pretty well. Haldecar seemed pretty content with the pie flinging having drawn to a halt, and he gave her a sullen nod as if to say it was fine, and she could go. Kaylin smiled wryly. The man probably figured it was safer for them to leave than to stay. He was probably right.

"Okay then. M'lady Nerwen, Morwen, Zev - I bid you all a wonderful night! It's been.. entertaining." Kaylin gave the Dwarven lady an extra smile. "Hopefully our paths will cross again!"

She hadn't really brought much with her other than coin, but it seemed like the tab had been settled, since Haldecar waved her away. With a shrug, she looked at her Ranger and waved him to the door in turn. "Well, go on then! You're the one who brought up leaving. I'm right behind you."
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Cadil, on the mission for the Queen Arwen

He felt rather self-important, as he hurried down to the Guesthouse: he had not felt that important since... never actually. He had not achieved anything yet that would be worth mentioned, but perhaps this was just such a time. Fetching food for the Queen to set in front of King Aragorn was no joke, but the young man was ready to face the challenge. That is, until he stepped into the inn.

First of all, he came face to face with Thullir and Kaylin who seemed to be on their way out. "Hi," he blurted, quite surprised at the way they looked... like they had just finished with some crazy activities. It was only when he took another step when he took in the whole view of the inn. Food was literally everywhere! Cadil couldn't help but give a whistle in surprise. Haldecar must not be happy; and how was he going to ask for recipes? Perhaps he'd think that Cadil just wanted to waste more of his precious food?

Cautiously he maneuvered through the various items and food, and people. And regardless of how cautious he tried to be, he still managed to step into some pie - his foot slipped, and before he knew it, he found his legs disappearing from under him and he landed flat on his back with a thud. "What the..." he grumbled with a frown, when he finally came to grips with his current condition. Embarrassed, the young man scrambled back on his feet and somehow found his way behind the counter without further accidents.

"Haldecar!" he spoke to the innkeep. "I see that you have quite a mess to deal with, and all. But... I was sent here with information that recipes have been sent to you from Bree. Y'know... the Queen wants some of those cooked right away." He found himself faced with disbelief in the older man's eyes. "Honest. I am tasked with cooking it. May I?"

"I bet you just want to get more of my pies to throw," Haldecar responded.

"No, no. I am innocent this time, just arrived, fresh from the Seventh Circle," Cadil lifted his hand as if to swear an oath.

Eventually Haldecar relented, "Fine. Just make sure not to leave a mess, or else I will drag you all over the floor and wipe everything up with your own hair. The recipe book is on the bottom shelf, on your right as you enter."

Having received permission, Cadil slipped into the kitchen and located the recipe book. Sitting down on a chair, he began to flip through the pages. There were too many to choose from, soups, meats, desserts... How was he to know what the King would like? Eventually his eyes fell on something that he himself might consider rather interesting: creamy mushroom soup, and perhaps beer-candied bacon to go with it.

Setting down the recipes, Cadil got to fixing the food. "Dried mushrooms in a heatproof dish... cover with boiling water," he read in the recipe and did just that. However, he poured the water so heartily that some of it splashed on his hands, making him cry out in pain. "Darn mushrooms, I say!" he growled, pointing a finger back into the recipe. "Dice onion, mince 2 garlic cloves," he read on, and while chopping the mentioned garlic and onion: "melt 4 tablespoons of butter in a pot, "add onion, garlic, sliced fresh mushrooms, salt, pepper... cook". His hands moved as swiftly as possible, leaving a cut in his index finger no less. But finally everything was in the pot, and he stirred it, holding the spoon in the other hand, while sticking the bleeding finger in his mouth. "Sprinkle flour on soaked shrooms... fry... add chicken broth... the other shrooms... thyme... bay leaves..." He left the soup to cook for a bit, while looking up the other recipe.

"Combine sugar and beer in a cup," Cadil read, and took a hearty sip of beer before following through with the required actions, whisking the two ingredients mightily to create syrup. Then the recipe called for coating the pieces of bacon in syrup and putting those in the oven. Getting some time to rest while the food cooked, he flipped through the recipes some more. Perhaps he should become a cook? It all looked rather delicious, though some of it seemed weird. Perhaps he could return to Rangers and make a cooking career in there?

The young man returned from his thoughts just in time to remove the bacon from the oven before it had burned, at least it smelled quite good for now, if anyone asked him. Then he took the pot off the fire and stirred in a good amount of heavy cream. The food done, he now had to undertake the task of getting someone to taste these. But would anyone even believe that he was able to cook?
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Lalaith, on mission for the Queen

Grey eyes widened in shock at the scene that met them. There was food everywhere, the tables and chairs in much disarray, and a few patrons still lingering about who looked like they might have had one too many. Wariness settled on Lalaith's face, unsure if perhaps this was a bad time and she ought to come back later when Haldecar might be in a better mood. She couldn't imagine the plump innkeeper being complacent about the mess. That is, unless, this was an everyday happening. Lalaith suppressed a shudder at that thought, and picked up the hem of her peach robe to make her way through the muck of wasted food -- she tutted inwardly -- and towards Haldecar who seemed to be busy under the bar table. Of his daughter there was no sign.

Lalaith knocked at the bar counter as it were a door. "Knock, knock barkeeper. I am on a quest."

She stepped back quickly as Haldecar popped up from behind the counter. "Ah! The young lady from this morning! Are you on a quest to eat, dear lady?" He enquired, though a trifle nervously as he glanced at the mess behind her.

"Oh, no! Not to eat. Perhaps you remember telling me of the event of the Queen's Quest when you asked your daughter to settle me into one of the rooms this morning? Well, I have joined the quest," she revealed, not without pride, "and my first task is to make something for the king!"

Haldecar blinked. "How much food is the king expected to eat?!"

Lalaith looked rather taken aback by his heated words, "Erm..."

"There is already one quester in my kitchen cutting himself and making a mess. Go! Go! What is one more quester in my kitchen banging around my pots and pans!"

The young woman's chin went up and her voice turned cool. "I assure you, Master Haldecar, I do NOT bang around pots and pans."

Realising that he had been rude to one of his inn guests, and a little awed by the stance taken by the woman, Haldecar bowed in apology. "Please, lady. Won't you use my kitchen for the king's dinner?"

The words sounded so ridiculous that Lalaith had to gulp down a laugh that was beginning to gurgle up her throat. It leapt into her eyes, however, and the innkeeper appeared relieved. As she headed towards the kitchen, Lalaith figured there would be no need to inform the man that she did not bang pots and pans around because she hardly ever cooked. Poor king. She was going to fail this quest already, wasn't she?

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Zev was so engrossed in the piefight that the barkeep's bellow of "ENOUGH!" startled him enough to make him jump. He had forgotten where they were. He froze, then let out a nervous guffaw as he relaxed out of the heat of battle. He looked around at the mess. "Er, sorry about that, mate."

He noticed Thûllir hadn't quite managed to avoid all the pies, and had bit hit squarely in the shoulder blades. The Ranger was looking at him with a wry grin. He gave a bit of a gulp. That wouldn't soon be forgotten. Well, at least they were... friend now. Right? That was definitely how this worked.

Morwen was lucky the fight was called when it was, as Kaylin had been moments away from managing to smear the handful of pie all over her. As they both stood up, she felt they had perhaps turned a new leaf in their interactions with one another. She was not the same feral soldier who had (she winced inwardly) attacked the red-headed woman. She thought Zev was probably delighted that she had committed so thoroughly to his brand of mischief.

"Well met, all of you. I'm certain we'll be seeing each other around." She said, tossing more coin to Haldecar, an apology for the mess. Zev grinned and waved at them as they left.

As soon as they were gone, though, he turned serious. "Where did Tankar go? He must have slipped away during the pie fight." His green-grey eyes narrowed in frustration, "That was stupid. I got carried away."

Morwen sighed. "It's been a long few months, Zev. You needed a break; you'd been starting to act like me, for Eru's sake," she grinned at him, and gave him a light nudge, but he remained serious. "Besides, that ... man ... couldn't have been an assassin. You don't really still think that, after all we saw of him, do you?"

(@Moriel)
they/he/mischief

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Cadil, on the mission for the Queen

The food ready, he tasted a spoonful of soup; it seemed rather okay, especially when eaten with the bacon (a little piece of which he ate after the soup). This would suffice for a reasonable meal, if he said so himself, and yet he had to find someone else to verify this statement. For the purposes of gathering courage for the next step, Cadil snatched up the mug of beer, which was still half full, and emptied it in a few hearty gulps. A loud burp escaped him, just as Lalaith appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Excuse me," the young man apologised hastily, blushing up to his ears. He had not expected anyone to come upon him in here, except for the innkeep, though it seemed like the man did not care much to check on him, except probably to make him clean up after all was said and done. "I am called Cadil," he made introductions, and wondered whether he might have just found someone to taste his cooking.

"Would you like to taste some of the mushroom soup and bacon and tell me what you think?" Cadil got straight to the point - after all the answer could only be obtained by asking, and the sooner he received the answer, the sooner he would be able to decided on the next steps.
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Lalaith, on mission for the Queen

Lalaith stopped short at the entrance to the kitchen at the sound of a large burp and the sight of a man with an empty beer mug in his hand. She blinked in astonishment. Was he hiding away from the other guests? That though was almost immediately put to rest as he introduced himself. He appeared friendly enough, not like he was up to nefarious activities, like drowning himself in beer. The blush on his cheeks settled her down even further. She smiled, and nodded her head in greeting as she said, "And I am called Lalaith. I am pleased to meet you Cadil. But what might you be..."

"Would you like to taste some of the mushroom soup and bacon and tell me what you think?"

Lalaith blinked again. A suspicion dawned upon her. She looked at Cadil curiously. "Might you be a quester for the Queen as well? And I imagine your task is to cook up something from that Bree barkeeper's recipe, right?"

She glanced at the dishes. Did he say mushroom soup and bacon? Her gaze turned slightly wary. Did she want to try it? She was not sure what mushrooms tasted like. She was not even sure if she knew what it was. Were they the little brown bits floating in the soup? The bacon looked interesting. She liked bacon. She shifted her glance back up at Cadil's face. "I believe I could help you out."

Taking a spoon handed to her she dipped it gingerly into the soup. She thought she would plunge into the unknown first. She examined the full spoon that appeared creamy. There appeared to be, apart from the brown bits, traces of herbs mixed in with the soup. The smell of garlic was unmistakable, and it was a taste she always liked in her dishes. She sipped at it and closed her eyes so that her sense of taste felt more pronounced. Smooth and soothing were the words that came to her mind. The taste truly was calming...delicious. The was something a trifle chewy that she assumed was the bits of mushroom. Their taste was slightly odd, but she found she liked it. She smiled and opened her eyes, "I would pass this one, Cadil. Surely the king would like this!" She betrayed her knowledge of what he was up to.

Then she turned her eyes to the bacon. She picked up one of the pieces of bacon. It looked like it might be slightly overdone. But she could not really say until she popped it into her mouth. Crunch. Crunch. She blinked, "Are they supposed to do that?" She liked it though, whatever flavour was popping into her mouth. It was sweet. She was not sure if she was able to tell what all the ingredients were...

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Cadil, the cooking quester

Apparently Lalaith was also sent to cook some food for the King to eat, so Cadil waved his free hand towards the book of recipes. "Aye, suppose the King might be real hungry for both of us to be sent running to get food for him. Here are the recipes. Most look quite delicious, I should say, and with some effort might come out tasting good too," he told the newly arrived quester.

At any rate, the woman was willing to taste his creations, and Cadil waited patiently for her evaluation. "Ah, good," he sighed contentedly. At least the soup would do. But he watched with some more concern as Lalaith chewed on the bacon. He knew it was maybe just a bit more crunchy than meant to be. "Well, it is soaked in syrup, so it might have this interesting sweet layer and such," he explained his activities.

"Ah, you have brought peace to my heart," he said with much relief when Lalaith found both of the dishes he had made edible, and then set about cleaning up his workspace. "I should make room for you then. Look into those recipes, Lalaith, see if there's anything to catch your attention."
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NPC Aria
Queen's Quest


Aria made her way back down from the Seventh Circle (truly, she was getting exercise today!), and walked straight to the Old Guesthouse. She had been here before just rarely, but when she opened the door and walked inside, she did not remember it looking quite this way. It was a mess! Was there a fight? Or was it always like this now? She was unsure. Still, this was where she had been sent, so this is where she would go.

The barkeep looked a bit frazzled, making Aria think she had indeed just missed some sort of a fight. She hesitated to approach him and ask for his recipe book, but Haldegar looked up and gave her a smile. Encouraged, Aria smiled back and walked up to speak with him. "Good day sir," she said politely. "I was sent here by the Queen's handmaiden Lothwen. I was instructed to look through your book of recipes and cook something for the King's dinner tonight," she said quietly, blushing a little to think her cooking would be supplying the King's table today.

Haldegar looked surprised. "You are welcome to look through the book of recipes, young lady," he said with a tired smile. "But I think you will find you are not the only one looking in that book! Mr Butterbur I'm sure had no idea his recipes would ever be this popular!" he said, a twinkle in his eyes, as he gestured for her to follow him toward the kitchen.

There were already two other people in the kitchen, as Haldegar showed Aria inside. "You are welcome to use anything you want in here, miss. The royal staff warned me this was taking place, and will see I'm reimbursed for whatever you use, and bring back the serving container as well, so don't you worry about that!" he said cheerfully, as he left her to her own devices. It probably was not a good thing, as Aria's cooking could be suspect, at best.

Aria smiled at the other two people in the kitchen (Cadil and Lalaith). It seemed one had already created a wonderful smelling soup. She smiled at both of them. "Good evening," she said with a smile. "Am I correct in assuming you are here for the Queen's Quest as well?" she asked with a smile. "Hopefully this won't turn into a cooking competition, because I am sure that I would lose!" she said with a laugh. "But the Queen has a large household to feed, I am sure nothing we make will go to waste!" she commented lightly. "May I look at the book of recipes when you're done?" she requested.

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Lalaith stepped out of Cadil's way as he began cleaning up the counter, and she looked at the recipe book. She considered the name - Barley Butterbur. Curious name. Sounded homely though, like a name fit to be a recipe in itself! Her lip quirked up at that thought. She started to turn the pages carefully, her grey eyes roving the rather illegible handwriting for something that would be easy for her to put together and likely to win the approval of the queen's handmaiden. She came across a few beverages, and considering what Cadil had just got ready, the woman wondered if perhaps it would be better for her to make the king a beverage. That was a thought to dabble with, and perhaps she was more inclined towards discarding the idea when she suddenly came upon a beverage that sounded both queer and warm.

"Hmmm...," she hummed, running an index finger quickly down the recipe. "Cream soda, caramel extract, butter extract, heavy whipping cream, butterscotch topping, powerdered sugar," she read aloud. "It sounds more like a dessert than a beverage! But I like its name - Butterbeer." She chuckled. "It's probably named after the recipe man himself," she mumbled to herself in amusement. "Oh, well!" Lalaith stepped up to the now clean counter, and was about to begin ingredient hunting when yet another person (Aria) made their way into the kitchen, who was not the innkeeper or his daughter.

"Hopefully this won't turn into a cooking competition because I am sure that I would lose!"

Lalaith laughed. "You and me, both! But, I suppose this should be fun." On Aria's requesting the recipe book, Lalaith picked it up again, made a thorough glance of what she needed to do, and then handed the book over to the new comer, "Here you go! I hope you find something fun to do. I've chosen the quaint sounding beverage - Butterbeer!"

With that Lalaith went to work gathering together the ingredients. It took her a while to figure out where everything might be, including the utensils, but eventually she believed herself set. Years of cultivating a habit of meticulousness and precision ensure that at least in measuring at the ingredients, Lalaith would not go wrong. She got out a large mixing bowl and began to whip the cream till it became absolutely stiff. She found she loved the texture, and swiped a bit to see what it might feel like on her tongue. "Hmmm...tasteless." She made a face. "What did you expect? It's just plain cream, Lala!" She admonished herself. She then added the caramel extract and the butter to the cream and mixed them well till a foamy texture formed. She poured this into a couple of clean beer mugs, and topped it with the butterscotch topping and sugar mix. She dipped a long spoon into one and brought up a bit to taste it herself. She closed her eyes thoughtfully and smacked her lips. For a brief moment she wondered what it would be like if she added a dash of real barely beer to the mix. Give it a hint, just so the beer in the recipe's name was justified. But then she dared not tamper with the recipe. After all it was for the king who was supposed to have tasted all this before at the inn of Barely Butterbur, and he would be able to tell the difference surely!

So she mopped up the counter, and turned about with one mug in her hand for either Aria or Cadil to taste. "Well? Is anyone brave enough to try this mix?" Her eyes twinkled.

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NPC Aria
Queen's Quest


Aria smiled as the other cook in the kitchen, Lalaith, offered her the recipe book. "Thank you so much! Butterbeer, that sounds interesting! I'm not familiar with that," she added, "But then again, I've never been to Bree," she said with a smile, accepting the book.

As Lalaith began putting together the Butterbeer, Aria paged through the recipe book. She wanted something a bit unique, but also within the realm of her cooking ability. While she was a fine cook for every day meals at home, this was special. This was for the Queen and King.

Her eyes brightened as she turned the next page. This was perfect! she thought to herself. The ingredients would be available here in the kitchen, and it was not outside the realm of her cooking possibilities.

The top of the recipe read "Chick'n w/Veg", a deceptively simple title with a few more ingredients than the title suggested. Mr Butterbur was either a man with a sense of humor, or a man of few words. Aria hoped it was a Bree classic the King would enjoy, and be brought back to his Ranger days. Fortunately Lalaith was making something quite different, so they would not be having to share ingredients or utensils. Aria looked around the kitchen, familiarizing herself with Haldegar's kitchen layout, and relieved to see everything was tidy and clean. She dug in a nearby cabinet and pulled out a large pan, and began stoking the fire lighting the oven to preheat so it would be ready when she had the ingredients together.

Chicken was the first ingredient, and fortunately Haldegar kept a stock of fresh meat in the icebox as he likely served quite a few meals from this kitchen. Looking at the cuts of meat, she was satisfied they were fresh, likely killed and plucked this morning. A little lemon juice on the bottom of the pan, and she set the sliced chicken on the bottom. She then dug around in the pantry and found what she was looking for--bread crumbs. She poured some in a little bowl, added cheese and a just a hint of milk. Making sure the chicken had plenty of lemon juice on either side, she then dipped it in the cheese and breadcrumb concoction, making sure the chicken was covered completely. She put it back in the pan, and then went to find several tomatoes, one onion, a bit of garlic, and salt and pepper.

Several chopped tomatoes later, Aria mixed in a bit of chopped onion, a pinch of garlic, and the salt and pepper into a large bowl and stirred. She then threw a dash of vinegar over the chicken before generously piling on the vegetable portion over the top of the chicken. A little more cheese, and the concoction was ready to go in the oven.

A half hour later, Aria checked on it, grabbing a nearby towel. The cheese was bubbling and crisping nicely on the edges. Just to let it cool, and it would hopefully be ready for a taste testing! Aria was distracted when Lalaith asked for someone to try the Butterbeer she had made. "Oh yes!" Aria said excitedly, accepting the mug. "This sounds amazing!" she said with a smile. She smelled it briefly, and then took a sip of the beverage. It was sweet, but not overpoweringly. The topping of cream balanced out the butterscotch flavor, and the hint of real beer mixed with the cream soda gave a bit of tingle to the tongue. Aria put the mug down and exclaimed, "That was amazing! I would drink more of that if I could! You could sell that in the market!" she said with a smile, subtlety wiping traces of foam off her top lip. Taking advantage of having a taste tester, she asked, "Would you mind trying my chicken dish before you leave?" she requested, scooping a small portion onto a plate and handing her new found friend a fork.

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