"You are most welcome here at my table, Isengar.  A Hobbit of the Shire seen in Imladris is nothing to simply pass off.  Such things tend to make people curious.  I, for one, certainly would love to know what brings you here to a place so far from your comfortable Hobbit hole - though if I recall correctly; the Tooks do love to travel and explore from time to time," Arthalion said with an inviting smile.  "But, perhaps the time for tales can wait until all have come; for as you can see...even now, more arrive," the Steward added with a nod to those approaching.  He was quite grateful that Arkala was so kind to attempt at putting Isengar at ease.<br/><br/>"Aww, and here are two more.  Be welcome at my table, Ladies," Arthalion greeted the two women as they came over.  The Half-elven one did not introduce herself immediately, but the other he knew - though she gave her name all the same.  She was Cailiawen of Rhudaur.  Rumor had it that she was a decendent of the line of Isildur from when Rhudaur, Cardolan, and Arthedain had become three seperate kingdoms as Arnor fractured.  Rhudaur had become more of a realm for the Wildmen than the Dunedain - for their presence had waned over the years.  It was said the last true king of Rhudaur had married a woman from the Wildmen, and from then on the blood of Isildur was not so pure.  Yet, though he knew who she was; he had never seen her until this moment.  Her presence alone made this all the more interesting.  Last to arrive was a Dwarf to whom he bowed to:  Thofred Bluecloak.  He was not aware of any Bluecloaks in Ered Luin where lay Thorin's Hall, and concluded he must have come from either Erebor or the Iron Hills.<br/><br/>"Make yourselves at home, Friends.  Only after all were seated comfortably did Arthalion sit to gaze at each of them steadily.  "Some of you have come of your own free will to my table this morning, but some have also come by my invitation.  Be that as it may; all of you are welcome here.  I would know what brings each of you here this day to Rivendell; for there are things at work in the world of which I would like to stay appraised of.  Most of you know me not.  I am Arthalion:  Steward of lost Arnor - the ancient Dunedain realm of Elendil, the Tall, and second in command to the Rangers.  My job is to protect the region from troubles, but I have a greater purpose which is on the horizon.  Such a purpose will require the aid of all those around...even from all walks of life.  It is not something to which I can speak of immediately, and before I could - I would still want to know more of those now gathered here.  I can tell you this much - the darkness has returned.  Perhaps some of you have even noticed this, but even if you are not aware...you are now.  The Enemy:  Sauron, Dark Lord of Mordor has returned to his Dark Tower of Barad-dur," Arthalion told them, and his voice was grim, but filled with a strange hope which matched in his eyes as he gazed at them each in turn.<br/><br/>He did not say more; for this was their time for tales - not his...not yet, at least.  There would be time enough to tell them of the matters which now weighed upon his heart and mind, but first he had to know why they were there.  To have one from various corners of Middle-earth could not have been mere coincidence...arriving all within the same day...almost the same hour.  He sat back to watch them feast and drink, and in this he listened to them each...his mind working on all that he hoped to accomplish.  It would be told him by the Wise that his idea was a fool's errand, but Arthalion did not think so.  Some power moved to bring all these people to the hidden valley of the Elves.  He would know their purpose before moving forward.<br/><br/>Yet, if he was right...if his prayers had been answered; then the plan he wished to execute might just work.  There would certainly be more of a chance if the other members of the Free People got involved.  In fact, it was almost necessary in order to succeed.