[color=8882be]The woman's thin brow arched high as the farmer took in her appearance. She pushed away from the stable doors with a grace befitting the elven half of her heritage. She had enough sense to not be rude, all too familiar in dealing with a variety of personalities from her occupation. She had to admit, just to herself, that she had yet to meet someone from Phandalin before. His accent was [i]unique.[/i][/color]

"Zelana," [color=8882be]she answered plainly with a nod of greeting.[/color] "You must be Berrin?" [color=8882be]She likely pronounced the name wrong, her city accent a vast contrast to his own country drawl.[/color]