Turi and the ring of Valar Belain (Thranduil fanfic)

Chapter 4

A storm was rising in the east, that much was sure. Leaves and fallen branches were being blow about as a dark figure pushed his way into the Greenwood Inn, the only guesthouse in the realm. The innkeeper lifted himself lazily from his chair to welcome this unexpected guest who'd just blown in. Business was slow as the nights were drawing longer and colder.

'Raich – blasted, the arriving elf cursed, trying to brush the leaves off his expensive black cloak and his equally black hair. He sighed and addressed the innkeeper casually. 'Look here now, my name is Drannor and I have come for an important trading meeting tomorrow.' He heaved his leather bag onto the counter and tapped it. 'Valuable wear in here – starlight gems and a priceless ring.'

The innkeeper just nodded and looked him up and down. This guest looked a bit peculiar. His cloak opened to reveal a luxuriously decorated tunic that looked expensive indeed. Business must be good.

Drannor cleared his throat, then sighed self-importantly as the innkeeper didn't jump to attention immediately. 'I will require a room.'

The innkeeper turned away from him to face a board with plenty of keys for the unoccupied rooms in the guesthouse. 'I have just the ticket for you, my lord Drannor.' 'Thank you. Er, I will require a brush as well' he continued, absentmindedly picking at the dried leaves that had gotten tangled up in his jet-black hair. 'Yes certainly my lord. Quite the weather outside this evening' the innkeeper nodded. 'Not getting any better before it gets worse.'

'And I will need someone to carry a message for me.' He waved his hand dismissively 'tomorrow morning will be fine.' 'Yes, my lord. I will see to it.'

They exchanged good nights and the innkeeper watched his wealthy guest log his leather bag up the stairs.

The wind howled and blew that night as if wolves had descended upon Greenwood. In the misty grey of the morning, a message was sent from the inn. Around midday, Drannor came down.

As he sat down in the lobby, the innkeeper polished the reception's wooden worktop and minded his own business. It wasn't long before the door to the guesthouse was pushed open, letting in a host of cold air.

The innkeeper looked up in surprise, mumbled a welcome, then gave his worktop another onceover and made himself scarce. He knew better than to interfere with the business of his clients, especially with ones as distinct as present company. He'd run this family business for as long as memory served, and it was always a good time for a break and a biscuit.

Having polished off a plate of biscuits and a small pot of leaf tea, the innkeeper returned to find the lobby of his inn deserted. He brushed the crumbles from his front, and went about his daily routine. Yes, business was kind of quite. And he liked it.

What he did not know was that he was about to be one guest down.