"You'll have an easier time sleeping in the barn." The raven-haired woman said, doing her best to sweep whatever dust was on the porch away from the two newcomers. A strange pair by all accounts. Around them, the village was the epitome of the word 'quaint.' Men wore sporting vests of low quality whilst women wore wool dresses, though you could find either sex wearing workman's trousers if they were doing a menial job. There had to have been plenty of trade, as there was very little room for any farmland, and by any measure the soil was not made for it.

The hamlet of Berute was situated in a small vale surrounded by jagged faces of rock that could hardly be called mountains. More like upjumped hills made of stone, guarding the small area from the greater Blackwood and it's more pressing dangers, at least that was the idea behind the town's inception. There were two known ways in and out; the southern route and the northern route. The two adventurers had made their way through the south, from left the town of Gladstone a week previously. 

Their provisions now low, Berute seemed like a dream come true. Lovely thatched houses and little in the appearance of deadly beasts. The only real indication this was still within the Blackwood was the large trees that had been spaced a bit less thickly as they hiked through the glens and glades toward the little village. Cows and other livestock had been grazing in the forest beside them as they had walked, which was likely the town's main source of food and comfort. Now, the two had sought a place to stay for the night as any would expect them to. As it were, that didn't seem to be working out. 

"Look..." the woman said, leaning her broom on the wall and facing the two. She was a pretty woman with green eyes, though it was easy to imagine them flaring in severity if she grew angry. "I do deeply apologize for the lack of space. But we do have a barn. It's clean and we can provide some blanket. All you'll need to do is pay for the food." 

A cart passed behind them, two handsome horses carrying a load of crates. Behind it, an Elf played a tune on a lye as two Dwarves grumbled, hauling sacks of grain while trying not to tell the elf to be quiet too harshly. Truthfully it was a beautiful melody, but Dwarves weren't elven fans at the best of times. 
[@Fetzen][@Tortoise]