[center][h2][b][color=f7976a]Vamyr Turambar[/color][/b][/h2][/center]
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He nodded in appreciation to the dwarf, but Vamyr’s attention snapped back to the wizard the instant he began to speak. At the wizard’s gesture, he pushed off the wall and came a few steps closer to the old man. As he spoke, the room around them turned to fire and torture- he moved another step closer to the group, away from the threat.

Vamyr was still digesting the tale when Ofnir tossed him a handful of coins. His eyes glanced slowly down at them, then at the assembled companions. He was grateful, but irony of giving him the coins wasn’t lost on the Gondoran. If no one spoke, then it would be up to him to assign the rooms- which put him at a dilemma. It would be logical to put the two women together, or the Halfling and the Dwarf, as neither would fill a bed, but to suggest either invited offense. He threw a wry look at Ofnir, but was saved the awkwardness by the pale pink eyed elf- who offered to rest with Ellaryn, the Halfling. She graciously accepted, though her mannerism suggested that the elf maiden held a much higher status than he knew. Ofnir [i]had[/i] mentioned something of Rivendell. He relaxed, and searched through the coins for the one that was closest to the wizards, and furthest from the stairs, tossing it towards her. [color=f7976a]”Thank you.”[/color] He flipped the next furthest to the bard, the next to the dwarf, and kept the one closest to the stairs for himself. [color=f7976a]”I’ll be in room three, should anyone need anything.”[/color]

If what the wizard had said was true, then even the inn may not be safe. As a guardsman, it was his duty to place himself as the first line of defense. If they were attacked in the night, hopefully his would be the first room to be assaulted. Next door would be the dwarf, who looked a worthy fighter by any respect. Vamyr bade the others good night, and quietly left, retrieving his saddlebags from Jack and retreating to his room to prepare.

He carefully organized and repacked his gear before removing his armor and laying it gently in the corner of the room. His sheathed sword lay just under the bed, within easy reach. And then he sat, and pondered. This was a dangerous mission- far beyond him. He was just a guardsman on a long errand, albeit from the borders of Ithilien. Associating with Rangers was not the same as being one, and this quest definitely called for such. On the other hand, he had little to offer to his brethren in the south. Returning would add just one more blade to stand against the tide, and likely another body for the field. Without aid from the north, he had little purpose at all. Here however, he could at least offer assistance…

[color=f7976a]”Ofnir, the Blue. You have my blade.”[/color] He spoke quietly to the empty air, feeling foolish- but the words brought a feeling of determination as well. Vamyr sat for a while longer, thinking, before standing and sliding the tip of his dagger into the crack between the top of the door and the frame. Anyone who tried to open the door would cause it to fall, making a decently loud noise. That done, he dressed down and collapsed into bed, letting the warmth and the feeling of a real bed put him to sleep instantly.