<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3e/9c/da/3e9cda921fb000409b1ff5691e25e409.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Arion (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=340173.msg16119821#msg16119821) (Arion of Dol Amroth)<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>as pictured, dressed in black and grey leathers<br/><strong>Condition:</strong>Needing to stretch his legs from a ride, hungry now that he’s scented food<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The taproom  of the Prancing Pony<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Everyone who might be interested!<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Arion had spent the last fourteen months at sea traveling northwest up the coast from Dol Amroth up to Mithlond. Everyone called the port city the Grey Havens, but that just didn’t resonate in his mind. Captain Arya kept a tight schedule and was seeking to make his fortunes before any grey entered his hair, so shore leave was sparse. Many described their first love with the rosy filter of youth, their partners forever upon some pedestal after the years had gone by with the reasons they had split up long forgotten. For Arion, it was the sea and sailing upon it. The sea of Belegaer had always represented adventure and what was left to discover in the world.<br/><br/>As much as he loved sailing, he was a Black Swan for Prince Imrahil. He covertly gathered intelligence for home and prince to keep his loved ones safe. He could have had a life of leisure, Princess Ivriniel had taken him in and raised him as her own when his mother passed, but the sense of duty inside him was too powerful to live some life of privilege as a gentleman of Dol Amroth. He made up his mind to collect his pay and leave the employ of Captain Arya when they docked in Mithlond. He would miss the Sea Sprite, but the crew were dull, and he had heard all their stories and jokes far too many times now. That and few of them bathed often enough for Arion. A little cleanliness went a long way wasn’t just a saying—it helped everyone around you.<br/><br/>He used some of his earnings to get himself a decent horse. The Sindar who sold it to him insisted that he properly name the horse and make friends with her before she let him walk off with the animal. Frankly after making friends with the ebony mare, sitting down and working out a fitting name wasn’t how he thought he would spend half the afternoon.<br/><br/>Apparently you can’t call a black horse Rosie—according to Falassiel, it confuses them and makes them think you are colour blind. She didn’t like Morwen or Elanor either. He floated Narah, Sansa and Raven by her but they ‘didn’t feel right’ either. Finally, he settled on  Freya. (https://www.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/beautiful-horse-mane-black-friesian-frederik-great-11.jpg) The horse looked over and that seemed to be what it took to impress the horse merchant. He got a decent saddle and some supplies before leaving Mithlond. Arion did spend some time talking to Falassiel about the local goings on. As most elves she was stunning to behold and he had been surrounded by men for far too long. Some of the names he chose were just to make her laugh, it had been a while since he was around the fairer sex. It was good to know he could still make them laugh.<br/><br/>Arion had taken his time riding through the plains till he got to the Shire. He needed to get his land legs back under him; also horses hurt your ass. There. He said it and Freya heard it. If they were going to be living together like this it was best not to have secrets. Her snort told him what she thought of his sentiments. The hobbits were a curious race. He had never encountered one. They were wary of the long-shanked stranger at first but a little friendliness and some cheer…beer helped here, and they were downright hospitable and free in sharing any of the news they had come across. They kept trying to push their tobacco on him, but he just didn’t like the smell of it and then there was all that coughing when he tried to smoke it.<br/><br/>He spent a week in the Shire before heading off to Bree. A small to medium sized town, also rather friendly from the looks of it. Larger cities tended to have a number of snobs. Smaller places tended to be friendly…after a little bit of apprehension and getting to know you. Arion had always found it easy to make new friends and acquaintances. The first place he saw was an establishment called the Prancing Pony. Sounded fun so he parked Freya by the large white stallion untethered and drinking. After calling her uncomfortable, he felt it was best to tie her up. “I’ll get you some oats.” he promised her. The stallion looked at him somewhat expectantly. “Alright, I’ll get you some too, as long as you're nice to Freya.”<br/><br/>Walking into the establishment he surveyed the place. It felt warm and welcoming. Mostly. There was some sourpuss that didn’t want to hear the same story again. “I’d like to hear it.” Arion said to the storyteller. He walked to the bar and made sure that the two horses outside got some quality oats. As for food and drink, he always went for the local specialties. There was no point in travelling around the world and only eating the foods of your homeland in the way your homeland prepared them…just stay home.<br/><br/>He started looking around for a table to join. He saw a place in the back and shook his head. Who wanted to sit by themselves all dark and broody swallowed up by the shadows? He wasn't on a spy mission.<br/>