Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: shansen@mitre.org (Sheila Hansen)
Subject: Enter yet another
Message-ID: <1992May15.221921.396@linus.mitre.org>
Date: Fri, 15 May 1992 22:19:21 GMT

    The woman gives up.  ItÕs no use - she canÕt sleep anymore.  With a loud
sigh, she gets up from the cot, picks up her worn, forest-green travel cloak,
and leaves the room.  As she walks down the stairs to the main room of the 
DragonÕs Inn, she realizes that her room had indeed afforded her some 
protection from the general noise of the inn, but - 
    ÒNot enough, not enough!Ó she mutters to herself.  
    ÒWhere is the Innkeeper?Ó she shouts.  No one responds to her request.  
Shaking her head, she makes her way to an empty table not quite in the center 
of the room.  At little more than 5 and a half feet tall with shoulder 
length mouse-brown hair and simple country garb (russet skirt, leaf-green 
vest, ivory blouse), she seems out of place in this room of predominantly 
tall and striking beings. As she reaches the table, so does Rowan Littlefair.
    ÒYou asked for me?Ó
    ÒYesÓ, she replies.  ÒWhen first I arrived at this establishment, it 
seemed respectable and quiet.  Now, late at night, I find it so noisy I 
cannot sleep.  At one point it sounded as if the rooms themselves were being
destroyed across the hall from me.  Have you no rooms of quiet wood?Ó
    ÒWe have two, Mistress Aliseh.  They cost somewhat more than the room 
you have now, but we can arrange--Ó
    ÒNo.  Because of my...uh...travel plans, I cannot afford to pay more.Ó  
Aliseh sits down.  ÒI guess IÕll just wait the night out here.Ó
    Littlefair looks at the woman, feeling slightly protective of her, 
though not knowing exactly why.  ÒIÕll send some wine to your table - on the
house.Ó
    Aliseh thanks him and begins looking around the room as he walks away.  
Her blue-grey eyes squint with the effort of looking into some of the innÕs 
darker corners.
    ÒHellÓ, she whispers to herself.  ÒI knew I should have worn black!Ó


 - Aliseh