"The Red Hound." Glorfindel corrects, looking amused by her attempt. He pushes his way inside - inside it is warm from the roaring fire in the hearth and the press of bodies. Inside it is loud, with songs and chatter and (mostly) good-hearted ribbing. Inside the air is rich with the scent of baked dinners and house-made ale.
It's a good place to be on a cold night. Glorfindel raises a hand to get the attention of the barliman, then heads for a quieter corner, carving a path mostly by force of elbows. It's clear he's been here often enough that the locals don't care so much about the elf in their midst.
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Date: 2015-11-08 06:53 am (UTC)From:It's a good place to be on a cold night. Glorfindel raises a hand to get the attention of the barliman, then heads for a quieter corner, carving a path mostly by force of elbows. It's clear he's been here often enough that the locals don't care so much about the elf in their midst.