Year of the EverGod 2189 A.D. (After Decimation)
The city of Riverhope was a sprawling settlement of beautifully built structures and lush foliage. If one were to look at it from a Hawk's eyes, they would see a crescent moon of silver, white, brown, and green stand out amidst the ever thickening wilderness that spread beyond. It was famous for its beautiful Riverhope Bridge, nearly a mile in length that stretched from the front gates across the widest point of the River Dúemen. Its foundations were made of Whitestone and Valdium, though it was layered with well crafted timber that gave it a humble feel as one rode or walked across its length.
If he were in the North, a Wood Elven traveler riding upon a great red Elk would have drawn attention in a heartbeat. Here, however, Calanon Aenarion was but a small oddity among a city of people who see the work of the Elves daily. Well, truly he was a Quarter human, which he supposed was quite rare, but it wasn't a very noticeable trait about him other than his more solid build and handsomely Half Elven-esque face. His mount Brogach's hooves clopped and clicked upon the timber laywork of the great bridge. The smell of the flowing river reached his nostrils, and he breathed in deeply. The spray was a welcome relief, for the Elf needed a small measure of peace after traveling hard for days now to see if his friend was truly alive. It would ease his heart to see him, he did not doubt. However, that was not the only thing that had hastened his steps, for no one dared be late for an audience with the Queen of Riverhope.
Above him in the sky, a great eagle screeched into the air and dived, claws extended to capture its meal for the day. Small peddlers sold trinkets and traveling food to the left and right as he passed, with an Elven, Half Elven, and even Human guardsman or two standing vigil every dozen yards or so. Stone faced and clad in Elven steel, with great spears that glinted in the sunlight. A Dwarf with a mule walked passed him away from the city, grumbling in his alien language at his beast of burden. Once Calanon reached the River gate, the guards welcomed him with respectful nods, and one gave a smile. He introduced himself, and was given directions to the place he was to visit.
There were three walls that layered the city. The outer wall made of Whitestone and great works of timber that stretched around the city proper, touching the forest to the west and licked by the river to the east. Within this area of the city were most of the newer businesses and peddlers, as well as where most visitors were housed. The middle wall was of similar design, mirroring the outer wall, only in a smaller area, guarding the living areas of many permanent residences as well as old/established businesses. Further in, to the Inner wall was where the Queen's Palace was located. Its walls were made of Valdium, Silver, and you guessed it, more wondrous Whitestone.
Conveniently for Calanon, the young Elf merely had to turn left at the gate, heading south as the City slightly curved. He did not need to travel a minute before he made it to the front of the Hearth and Flagon. A small contingent of soldiers strode by, but none seemed to be station at the front of this humble, two story establishment. It was a structure made of Southland wood, with a stone base. There was an inviting porch with two rocking chairs up front. Lamps framed the unimpressive door.
"Wait here, Brogach." the Elf said as they stopped at the front of it. Leaping off his steed, he gazed at the wooden door with his midnight blue eyes for a moment or two before striding in without another word. His Elk steed decided to stride to the building's side, grazing upon some grass that had sprung up next to the establishment. Inside, the common room was empty, just as the message had said it would be. The Queen had bought the tavern for the night! There was only a man at the counter, with shoulder length brown hair, rolled up sleeves, and a hardened look about him. He seemed to be the barman the message spoke of, Dirk Swordhand. The man isly wiped the bar counter with a cloth, only glancing the Elf's way.
His Elven ears twitched as a burp could be heard from the other room, and a smile bloomed upon his face when he saw his friend emerge from the kitchen. "Beren," he said simply, the Eru'Dai glancing up at him with a mouth full of sausage. "Well met my friend!" He ended his statement in a chuckle. Beren chewed and did his best to give his greetings, but knew it would be indecipherable, so they embraced in a hug. The tanned Warrior Monk nearly lifted his friend up in the hug. "What are you doing here?" Beren asked Calanon. Calanon shook his head, rich reddish brown hair swaying. "I'm not sure. Were you not told?"
"No one was." the barman said gruffly, then nodded to the massive feasting table at the center of the common room. There was a merry atmosphere about the room, the scent of fine foods and good drink wafting all around them. Comfortable chairs surrounded a long table, lighted by many lamps hung along the walls. Paintings of exploration and wilderness were set between the lamps. "Now take a seat, Queen's orders." the man said. Above the feasting table was a balcony that reached out and surrounded the room, merely an extension of the second floor. 
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