Elniss sat up with sat up with a start, her trained hazel eyes rapidly scanning her surroundings. There were no trees, was no lurking pursuer, and no muddy ground to falter her stride. She didn't feel terrified in this room as she had in the wood. What was the province titled? Drakenwood... Drakenw- Elniss dismissed the bothersome task of remembering names and observed the room.

The room was lit with luminescent candles, mounted on the wall. The wall was painted white and the floors were wood. She inspected her resting place, a well-framed bed, adorned by a comfortable fur blanket. She then felt the blanket fall from her shoulders, and she felt a cold draft on her bare skin. Elniss realized that she was only wearing her trousers and jerkin, but then noticed that her green coat was neatly folded on the nightstand and her brown leather boots sat atop the coat. She swung her legs from under the blanket, touching her feet to the wooden floor. 

The Elf immediately drew back her right foot when a sharp, burning pain racked her shin. Ah! Elniss remembered the incident now. As a ramification of her many stumbles and faults, she'd caught her leg in a thick root and landed with awkward settling. The woman drew upon what strength she could muster and pulled herself to the end of the bed closest to the nightstand, and took hold of her boots. She dug and found her stockings in the toe of the boots. The were designed to keep her feet from harm against the leather of her boots. 

Sliding into the stockings and then into the boots, Elniss stood, beseeching her left foot to bear a great deal of her weight. A smile touched her face when she glanced at a chair in the corner, upon which her bow and quiver were propped. The woman gave a small grimace of pain as she trudged toward the door. She turned the knob and stepped into the hallway. 

"Ah, I see that our guest has awoken!" A voice to the right exclaimed, causing Elniss hand to jerk to her left hip where her quiver would normally reside. The voice belonged to an old man, and as Elniss saw his face, she lowered her head in respect. Such was her customary practice to people, never the less to a greybeard in general. "How do you fare, Master Elf?" 

"I fare well, and I also offer my gratitude for your aid, sir." Elniss replied politely. "And it seems it is you to whom the title 'Master' should be endowed." She observed the man momentarily. His beard was white, but faint spots of peppered hair presented themselves. 

"I shall disagree, but should we argue to this matter, we shall bore the flies from the inn." He nodded his head in a formal greeting. "I am Lazarus, owner of the Hallows Inn." 

"Well met Lazarus, I am Elniss, daughter of Grae, and former serf to the lord Rayund."