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Eadgyd always looked forward to catching up with her friends at the Easterly Inn. However, in her excitement, she’d arrived a bit early and was one of two people in the inn, the other being a young man who sat alone in the corner, his hood pulled over his face. He seemed harmless enough, but Eadgyd knew from experience that men who seemed harmless were still capable of inflicting harm.
She sipped her mead and tried not to be too obvious as she looked at him. It was hard to tell with his hood obscuring much of his face, but he seemed to be a young man. His clothes and boots had some wear, but were clearly in good condition. He couldn’t have been adventuring for long—and if he had, he was able to clean and mend his clothes frequently.
A gentle nudge to her shoulder drew Eadgyd out of her thoughts. She smiled as she saw Lottie, one of her companions, enter the inn. The Hobbit looked even smaller than normal surrounded by the inn’s human-sized furniture and mugs.
“You’re here early,” she said as she sat down beside Eadgyd, her feet swinging in the air.
“I got too excited to see everyone,” Eadgyd confessed.
Lottie grinned. “So did I,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I’m glad you’re here, though—it’s awfully quiet.”
Eadgyd nodded, lowering her voice as she leaned closer to Lottie. “See that man over there?” she said, gesturing subtly in his direction. “Can you get a sense of him? I can’t tell if he might mean harm or if I’m just paranoid.”
The Hobbit twisted so that she could get a better view of the man, studying him covertly as she pretended to fix her hair. After a few moments, she shook her head.
“I think he’s just watchful,” she said. “If he meant us harm, he’d be more focused, but it just seems like he’s trying to get a sense of the place.”
Eadgyd breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing. Part of her still wanted to worry, but Lottie’s instincts were rarely wrong. If she said that the man had no ill intentions, Eadgyd believed her.
“Good,” she said. “I’ve had enough bad experiences with men in inns and taverns who meant me harm. I certainly don’t need any more of those.”
Lottie made a sympathetic noise and squeezed Eadgyd’s good hand. “You’ve had too many bad things happen to you.”
Eadgyd laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “If it makes you feel any better, most of those men wound up getting punched,” she said. “And not by me: by my brother. I learned to bear the comments and stares that one endures as a woman, but he was not one to let any man mistreat me, even if the only harm was a passing remark in a bar.”
“Your brother sounds wonderful,” Lottie said, grinning.
“He was,” Eadgyd said, a bit of melancholy creeping into her tone.
Just then, the barkeep came over to take Lottie’s order: a small cup of ale and a pastry. Before she could rush off to fetch Lottie’s things, Eadgyd held up a hand to stop her.
“One moment,” she said. “Do you know anything of that man over there?”
The barkeep nodded. “A Ranger, I think, although I don’t know from where he hails,” she said. “There’s something peculiar about him: not bad, just...different than any of the other wanderers I’ve met. He’s always polite to me and the rest of the staff, so if you’re worried about him doing harm, it doesn’t seem likely.”
Eadgyd nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “You’ve set me at ease.”
“Good—glad to be of help,” she said, nodding before she rushed off to fetch Lottie’s food and drink.
“That makes sense,” Lottie said. “Besides, anyone who means harm will look fairer than he to draw people in.”
“Wise words from someone so young,” Eadgyd said. “You’re right, of course—it often holds that the good folk in these lands will feel fair, even when they look foul. Those with foul hearts will often go to great lengths to keep up appearances in hopes that no one sees what truly lies within.”
“There’s something to chew on,” Lottie said as the barkeep set her ale and pastry before her. “Something besides a scone, that is.”