Warhorse Inn

Lomizimril of Dol Amroth sat in her room in the Warhorse inn, resting her bruises against a pillow. A large tome entitled Legendary Blades of the Elder Days sat atop the bedspread beside her, and candlelight cast dancing shadows over its pages. She continued taking notes with a slender stick of charcoal, but despite her focus, she was not entirely oblivious to her surroundings. She had a set of fine clothes folded nearby, wanting to look presentable in the presence of the mysterious, important guest who she had heard was coming...

Harugrim was kneeling close to the fire, poking at the flames with a stick and putting another fresh log down on the already half burnt others. He then lay down on his blanket that was close to the fire and pushed his pack underneath his armpit, so he could lie on his side in a half upright position without making his elbow hurt too much on the stiff and cold ground.

He was tired and his clothes were drying only slowly.