The Prancing Pony

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…

Namárië.

 

 

 

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