LadyRunic — Roleplayer Guild

@OnlyThePie Real quick, there probably were some Elves at Rivendell. They're leaving, but not all at once amd some probably are still setting affairs in order, and wondering if they wish to leave or remain a while yet. So Rivendell probably has a skeleton staff of sorts.

@jordy0403 
Gimli considered the Beornings the best bakers he knew, though they were not so willing to give out their cakes to travelers during the days of the War of the Ring. 

Their not all dead I believe. Many of them, yes. But to kill out a entire species is very hard to do. 

In the events leading up to the War of the Ring, the Beornings helped Aragorn, who was taking Gollum to Mirkwood, to cross the Anduin.[9]

During the War of the Ring, while wearing the One Ring upon Amon Hen, Frodo saw the land of the Beornings aflame, hinting that Sauron's forces had attacked them.[10]

After the War of the Ring, the Beornings and the Woodmen were given central Eryn Lasgalen by Thranduil and Celeborn.[11]

@Shade I have a idea... Shade! You could Dwarf-nab! I say that and I'm sleep deprived so I have a image of a Urukhai holding a stick with a dwarf dangling from the tip. Like a fishing pole to make wayward travelers stop. Don't take anything I say right now seriously unless that idea appeals to you. Then you might want to consider the ramifications of listening to the crazy cat tigger.

-Selwyn-

The moon rode high in the sky, as clouds blotted out the stars. A storm was coming, bringing darkness in it's train. A fitting coming, thought the elven maiden. Her form hidden by a thick cloak as the midnight mare she rode. For the storm that the Necromancer had brought with his return a few short years earlier had given her many a opportunity. Her own army she had kept to the North and bide her time. Now with scattered bands of Orcs and roving bands of men, she could hunt them down to join or die by her blade. A harsh reality but a needed one. Her Master would rise once more, and if it took spilling blood. She would bath the very world in it. 

The light from a tavern before her flickered as the noise within grew louder. One of the patrons had left, stumbling along home with two fellows. The elf grimaced, the singing was atrocious. Dismounting she let the reins fall the ground unworried someone would take the battle trained mare. Circling about the pub she noticed a side door towards the stables, a young lad pushed through it to get back to his care of the guest's horses. Seeing no sign of smoke, nor the squawking a kitchen staff produced at the busy hour, she slipped through to a cramped hallway. To the rented rooms, she noted making her own way to the bountiful noise and taking a unoccupied and shadowy table. To any one who looked she was simply one of the many roaming folk, perhaps a ranger even. She did not come here for the 'merriment' or the 'prized food'. She came here to hear what would be said. And she was not disappointed...

-Darcyn-

"An'! An' I says to the Orc-" The very prideful and boastful voice of Darcyn Telcontar was loud over the others. "Wot life? Yer just a dog ain't ya! A rabid one if I seys so!" Several others nodded in agreement, as the Orc Hunter puffed out his chest. "An' he starts pleadin' offerin' me 'is wealth-! On'y he ain't got any!" The story went on, and the men laughed and congratulated Darcyn on his hunts. Standing the man, declared his need for more ale, and getting a direct no. Staggering to the bar, the man banged his tankard. "More Ale-keep! A mun's got a thirst!" Once more denied his returned to grumble with his poor mood. First he lost his band of hunters, now he was refused ale! T'was a crime! His mood simply blackened as the night wore on.

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