Savina gave the table one last swipe with her cleaning rag and sank down on the low bench next to it, tossing the rag into the small bucket of soapy water that was on the floor a few feet away. She put her chin in her hand and looked around the empty tavern in satisfaction.

It had taken her the last four hours, but she had scrubbed all fifteen of the large wooden tables and each and every one of the thirty low benches. She had swept and mopped the stone floor and washed the stone walls. She had even gone as far as to take down each of the thirteen swords that decorated the walls and polished and sharpened them. She had cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom and washed every single ale mug, plate, spoon, fork and knife that she could find.

She looked up at the sword on the wall across from her and sighed, it hadn't always been like this; up until two years ago, her father had been a prominent sword maker and they had been quite well-to-do. Then her father had disappeared without a trace and left her mother to take care of four children. Savina was the oldest girl, at sixteen years old, but her brother, Marc, was nineteen and the new man of the family. Her two younger siblings were twin boys, Airk and Aaron, who were almost fifteen.

Looking up at the sword, she thought of her father. A lump rose in her throat, she missed him so much it was nearly unbearable. He had been a good and loving father and still very much in love with her mother, he wouldn't have just run off, would he? Savina shook the thought from her head, no, it wasn't possible. He had been taken by force and was planning his return to his family at that very moment. Savina felt a little better, but still the nagging doubt in the back of her mind remained.

Savina tore her eyes away from the sword and inadvertently looked at the picture of her father that hung on the wall above the booth she was sitting in. Caburnat Septulinar had been exceptionally attractive; Savina couldn't blame her mother for falling in love with him.

He had been a MoonElf, which was an obscure race of elves that lived isolated from the rest of Middle-Earth by Mordor, the region of Middle-Earth that was populated by the foulest and evilest of all creatures. The MoonElves were not minions of evil, but were thought to have been regular elves who had been cut off from the rest of Middle-Earth thousands of years before. In the recent thirty years, with the stirring in Mount Doom, large groups of MoonElves had been leaving their homeland, Moonzaar, and trekking across Middle-Earth in search of new homes.

MoonElves were different from other elves; instead of having blonde or white hair and blue eyes, as most elves did, MoonElves had black or silver hair and black eyes. Other than their hair and eye color, MoonElves and regular elves shared the same pale skin, delicate features, pointed ears, finely tuned senses, and natural grace.

Savina's father had been especially stunning; sparkling black eyes and shining silver hair.

Savina's eyes drifted to the portrait of her mother, who was half human, half Silvanesti Elf. Her mother had once been breathtakingly beautiful, with her deep blue eyes and pale blonde hair that hung to her waist like a shining silk curtain.

Savina reached up pulled out the brown bit of cloth she had used to tie up her hair while she cleaned. Her hair, which was long and silver, cascaded down her back like a waterfall. She looked quite a lot like a female version of her father; they shared the same thick silver hair and black eyes.

Savina yawned, unexpectedly worn-out, and pushed herself up from the bench. She looked down at her clothes and frowned, maybe the tavern was spotless but her clothes were filthy. She leaned down to pick up the bucket, thankful that after she emptied it she could go home, change her clothes and crawl into bed, it had to be at least three in the morning by now!

Suddenly, she stopped, still bent over the bucket. A scuffling sound near the door had attracted her attention. Thinking it might be ruffians trying to rob her, she set the bucket down silently and retrieved a two-handed sword from the wall.

One thing a sword-maker's daughter knew was how to defend herself using a sword.

Savina made her way to the door, clutching the sword in both hands.

There was soft knocking at the door.

Uncertain, Savina let go of the sword with one hand and put her hand on the handle of the peep-door that, if opened, would let her see who was at the door. Then again, if she opened it, someone could fire an arrow straight between her eyes.

A man's voice, sounding desperate and tired, came through the door, "please, we mean no harm. My friend is hurt and we need somewhere to rest."
           

Savina opened the peep-door and looked into the eyes of a young human man. His face was dirty and he had a cut above his right eye. Damp, brown hair hung to a little below his ears and he looked like he was badly in need of a shave.

He looked at her, his eyes hungry and pleading, "my name is Aragorn, please…"

Savina opened the door and stood back to let them in.