Having arrived slightly hungry, thirsty and with quite a lot of nervous energy, I stopped by the most raucous tavern I know – the Prancing Pony in Bree. Several people of my acquaintance are known to be here on occasion, but tonight seemed uncommonly quiet.
I was able to eat my meal (which… wasn’t phenomenal, but I hate to admit it – Men do not have food that suits my tastes very well), and wash it down with a mug of delicious beer, getting rid of that hungry feeling. It unfortunately did nothing for the nerves.
I don’t know why I feel this way. Visiting old friends is never such an exercise in apprehension. I suppose now, I have a few unknowns – I look much different. Some say “older,” or “more elven.” I’m the same general person… Am I not? Just dressed in neutral toned elven armor, or formal robes. I suppose it’s far from a spiky haired girl in Bree-land styled boy’s clothing running around collecting things and exploring places. But I’m still the same me…