His eyes tightened a bit. A mercenary... that wasn't unexpected, but it definitely wasn't the preferred answer from the mountain of a man that sat before him. The firelight flickered against the sides of each of their faces warming them to further comfort. Their conversation was only one of many currently filling the room with noise, and the elf continued to be certain that his voice would be only a small part of it. "I am, actually" Aldelros lightened his expression a bit "but I decided to move around rather than remain in once place. It suits me better as, I imagine, it does you?"

Aldelros' head jerked to the side when Mikaila spoke and he grit his teeth behind his lips. He didn't want to be called 'sir', that was definitely not a part of this life and image he had fabricated for so long. It seemed as if his decades of work to create this new person still left several flaws and allowed a very few to recognize the vaguest of hints at his past. He shook his head and set the food down on the table "I was asking why he bought the food, so I figured I'd ask him. I'm no man to call 'sir', and I don't have belief in past lives. There was no more reasoning to where I stood as to where you're seating." he lied, coolly. She didn't need to know about his day with that other elf. It was frustrating then and to tell the thing again just wouldn't do.

The elf's gaze turned back to Hroarr again and he nodded. "Your offer was thoughtful, but I'm afraid I can not accept it." After all, accepting food from mercenaries is not a good habit to get into.

((Im sorry i havent been online. I've been dealing with a death right now and unfortunately its still not over. I will do the best i can to post sometime this week, but we will see what happens.))

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The old man chuckled and stood up busily, sweeping the now-empty bowls away and turned away, humming merrily. "Best get a move on then." he said over his shoulder, depositing the bowls next to the wash basin. "Have you a cloak? that would be useful.. or perhaps a veil, like some tribeswomen do.." He mused the last part, only the first question directed at Milwanee. "But no, too much and you will stand out just as much." he answered himself first, discarding the veil idea immediately. "Your horses can of course stay where they are, should you need to make a quick escape no one else will know where they are."

"Accept it or not, it's yours. The lass isn't likely to take it back, and it's already been paid for" Hroarr smiled, amused at the elf's stubbornness. "Give it away if you like, though I doubt you'll find someone who looks hungrier than you."

The barbarian hid his face in the ale mug again, trying to keep from chuckling. He hadn't meant to tease, but the elf was even touchier than most. To calm his mischievous impulses, he scanned the room again for new people. It was quite dark outside, the princess should be hungry soon, and wanting to be under a roof... but there were no women in the inn save Mikaila and the barmaid, and none of the men were small enough to be the missing girl in disguise.

Sobered somewhat by disappointment, Hroarr looked back at his tablemates, and especially the indignant Rynegest. "If you insist on something for something, you can tell us of your travels while you eat."

Mikaila loved the playful banter of the man and elf that were next to her. It was such an interesting little conversation to listen to. Something in the back of her mind started to nag her though. It was as if she recognized the elven male that stood before her. He had said he does not believe in past lives, but she did and something was telling her that they had met before whether it was in a past life or in this one. Raffi looked up at her as if he were worried. She leaned over and pet the wolf, kissing him on the head and then putting the meat that the barmaid had brought for him, she sat up to face the two men. "I agree. Why dont you sit down next to him if not here. I would love to hear your traveling stories while we eat." She said smiling at Hroarr for the suggestion. The more company, the better her social skills would become.

She wrapped her cloak and hood round her putting the hood up and smiling beneath it; “Will this do sir?” He hadn’t answered which of her siblings it was but she’d know soon enough. She offered a hand to Syl; “I’m so glad you found me, even more now that my plans have exceled forward so much.” She checked that the cloak mostly covered her; unable to hide the small giggle of excitement she let slip out. She was unable to compose herself for some time but eventually she did. Keeping her back straight as she walked, her head high as she walked, letting the others lead.

0-0-0-0

Alauthan had left the blacksmith now; she seemed fine alone and he headed out of the camp. Donning a robe that swamped his thin delicate frame he headed out to the local river; it was dark before he knew it and he had been swimming since then; he pulled himself up on the shore using the robe to cover himself; the air wasn’t too cold but cold enough to remind him that his hair was wet and his body soaked. He could feel the grass dampening beneath his hands. He picked a few strands twirling them between his thumb and forefinger, the twisted and spun as he did. It only took him a moment to feel the push on his mind and he let himself fall back to lay, an arm rising to cover his eyes and face. It hurt but he didn’t want to sleep yet so he merely relaxed where he lay.

Aldelros looked thoughtful for a moment then eyed the two of them. Why would they do with his stories? Were they looking for someone similar to him? Or were they looking for him? He didn't like it, but if he was careful with which he picked they could be harmless. Slowly the elf drew up a chair and sat down between the man and elven woman. He was silent for a while before nodding his head, "A story... but I'm not in any need of the food. I've ran on much worse fare than what this place provided."

Fire crackling, he started in on a story of how he found a community near the Eastern border of the Wildlands that specialized in a kind of primitive hunting behavior that was all but lost to the known world. He kept his voice low, hoping to keep his target audience as his only audience. "A normal man or elf couldn't join their hunts without months of preparation. I had time on my hands so I waited with them, I did the cleansing rites and drank from their sacred pools until they felt I was fit to join their party of men."

It was definitely the story of a person who had given themselves entirely to becoming a career traveler. Merchants wouldn't venture that close to the Wildlands these days, not that they pushed too far before except on major routeways. This Rynegest was someone who took pleasure in his freedom to go far and wild and experience life on the move. "And you... You're both travelers. What brings you to this place?"

Syl smiled slightly as Cephan bustled about, snatching a lantern and his own cloak off a hook. "This way then!" he said brightly, that odd smile back again.

They would follow him through near-deserted streets until they had almost reached the brightly lit windows of an inn, where he finally paused and turned to them, fixing Milwanee with his eyes. "Now, if you do see who youre looking for, dont go bounding right up.. If they dont want to be found by the general populace either, you might run the risk of blowing their cover as well as your own by being too familiar, so take it slow." Cephan cautioned the princess before leading them forward once more.

Syl held the door open for the other two, dropping her own hood as they breezed inside.

"Ambition. And the promise of gold." Hroarr smiled slightly. "It is custom among my people to journey in our youth. Most return home after a year or two, with enough gold to buy a wife and a farm, but I have been away for almost fifteen years now. I plan to return home soon, and buy myself a kingdom."

The barbarian paused to sip his ale just as the door opened. Piercing blue eyes snapped to the doorway as three people entered. An old man, weighed and measured, and soon dismissed. And two women. One removed her hood as she entered, and Hroarr readily dismissed her as his quarry. Not his quarry, but still possibly a formidable obstacle. The look in her eyes was similar to what he'd seen in the wise women of his home, and he was not foolish enough to cross those eyes lightly.

Still, the hooded woman moved with a studied grace seldom seen outside of elven highborns or professional courtesans. And concealing cloaks were not customarily the garb of courtesans, unless she was meeting someone who required privacy. Even so, this was an unlikely rendezvous for such an encounter. She almost had to be the princess.

Hroarr's analysis of the newcomers took only a heartbeat, and then the tankard made the rest of its way to his mouth. He drank deeply, schooling himself to stay relaxed and calm. "It has taken much time, but I intend to go home as a leader of men and a giver of rings."

He glanced to Mikaila, to see if she had noticed the newcomers also, wanting her opinion and that of her furred companion to confirm his suspicions.