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[striding.livejournal.com]

There's a six and a half foot ranger in the bar, making his way towards what looks like counter top only by virtue of being long and flat. He's never been here before, but the way he moves likely obscures that fact; one hand staying fairly close to the elven-wrought blade at his hip, the way his steps are measured to counter any unevenness of ground.

The hood currently shading his features from casual sight probably doesn't help either. Of course, once he reaches the bar, it may be a little while before the dusty gentleman attempts to order anything - he's too busy trying to sort out where he is without alerting anyone to that fact.



[One very tardy entrance post for Aragorn, son of Arathorn of Lord of the Rings fame, coming in about TA 2970. Ish. Post is open until the typist's brain explodes or the next EP. :)]

Comments

[gammagammahey.livejournal.com]

She-Hulk is seated not far from the stool he's chosen. She's watched his entrance and careful passage across the bar, the superb control that is writ on his body in his every movement.

He's a warrior, no doubt.

"Howdy," she greets him, and smiles while offering a small salute.

[striding.livejournal.com]

The unfamiliar greeting throws him off for a few seconds, resulting in a brief incline of his head in her direction. The lady -- her stature and build suggests a female -- seems to be composed entirely in a shade of green he cannot remember coming across before, and the temptation to assume she's Maiar (or perhaps one of the missing entwives) is great. He's learned not to indulge those assumptions, however, and eventually returns the greeting, almost in kind.

"Mae govannen," although the translator switches it to "Well met," in English.

[gammagammahey.livejournal.com]

He's either shy or hiding something or both -- maybe hiding a great deal of things -- and if she knew she was being speculated on as Maia or Ent, she'd be flattered and broken with hilarity at the same time.

"Do you know where you are? I haven't seen you here before, which is why I ask. I'm Jennifer, by the way."

[striding.livejournal.com]

This time he does not hesitant quite so long in answering, a dry undercurrent perhaps lacing his tone. He's tired, traveled a long way, and was looking forward to sitting down and just observing the local folk for a few hours.

"A tavern, by the looks of it." He pauses briefly, before adding, "I am called Thorongil."

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

Awwwwwwww! She can taste his uneasiness, and he's so cute - like a little boy playing at soldiers, still dusty from the playground. Yes, we know it's unfair. But it's Katya, and she only has two default modes - deadly serious, or... um. Flamboyant isn't quite the right word, but it's close.

"What you need is a drink." She assures him from her spot at the Bar, polishing off a plate of pelmeni with relish. "Possibly many. You are in the right place!"

[striding.livejournal.com]

"Perhaps," he acknowledges, and leaves it at that for a few moments whilst looking her over in such a way that leaves little doubt that he probably knows if she's hiding any weapons, her height and possibly her weight.

"Are there many choices?"

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

No weapons, not physical ones anyhow (she likes to collect them, not necessarily use them. They're somewhat redundant). She's really a small little thing, all frizzed blond hair and silver bangles and bright cheerful eyes.
"Many choices, most of them wrong." She agrees, clambering up and over the bartop and making for the carefully labeled racks of alcohol. "This? This will have you dancing on the tabletops within a glass. No good." She advises, holding up a vaguely pink bottle, and then eyes him curiously. "Unless that's the goal?"

[striding.livejournal.com]

Aragorn is of the opinion that anyone can be dangerous - not just those built like himself, but those smaller. Visible weapons are not excluded to metal, but arms and hands, elbows, knees, teeth. Anything that can rend and tear.

"No. Just something to slake my thirst." Once the errant barkeep appears.

[sunbaked_baker]

Only a few moments after Aragorn reaches the bar, the door to the kitchen opens, admitting Rae and a tray of warm, fragrant baked goods into the space behind the bar.

"Evening," she greets with a smile as she passes by the man at the bar, moving to set her tray a little ways down the counter from him.

[striding.livejournal.com]

"Good eve," he replies almost automatically, the translator inside of the bar doing its job admirably. His attention shifts towards the baked good; although they are not quite up to Imladris standards, the aroma is still very welcome.

Especially one frequently on the road for great stretches of time.

[sunbaked_baker]

Sunshine takes great pride in her baked goods. The quality of flour she uses is a serious issue, and she's found that the bar keeps only the best ingredients stocked. Personally, the strange, kidnapping bar only started winning her over when she found that the bar stocked true cinnamon to use, not just the ground cassia that is the only substitute available from her suppliers back home.

On the tray she sets down, the cinnamon rolls, gooey and warm, are roughly the size of human skulls. There is a half-circle of dense, moist chocolate cake as dark as sin beside them, as well as half a dozen other various types of baked goods. Rae begins putting up small signs beside each group with names and prices: Bitter Chocolate Death, Glutton's Grail, Killer Zebras, Buttermost Limit, Meringuamania, Chocoholia, Rocky Road Avalanche, Tweedle Dumplings, as well as those that aren't named with a morbid sense of humor, ginger-orange teabread, almond-blueberry coffeecake, rosemary-garlic cracked-wheat loaves... everything made with only deliciousness in mind.

Rae has been busy.

"Can I interest you in anything?" she asks, glancing up from writing Cinnamon Rolls As Big As Your Head: $2.50 on a card. "They're fresh."

[striding.livejournal.com]

The art of baking is a serious one to many people, as serious as Aragorn takes his swordwork or tracking abilities. Knowing what to use and what to avoid in the wilderness is important as well to avoid food poisoning or even death in the extreme cases. Still, he is not such a forlorn figure that he cannot recognize good food when he sees it. Even if some of the shapes are unfamiliar.

"What would you suggest?"

[trigger_man]

Jack's sitting at the bar, and he notices pretty quickly when the man in the cloak walks in the bar. Okay, it'd be hard not to notice someone of that height, but that isn't the only reason. The shadowed face, the way he moves, the shape of a hand hovering over a weapon at the hip; all of it sets off Jack's instincts.

He probably shouldn't be so suspicious, considering his reaction when he'd walked in the bar for the first time, but it's an almost subconscious reaction that's hard to dull.

[ooc: Might not be on too long tonight as omg tired, but couldn't pass up the opportunity to tag. :D:D]

[striding.livejournal.com]

Aragorn normally does his best not to be noticed until the time comes when he needs to be, so anyone looking at him (or pretending not to) will get his attention fairly quickly as well. There are agents of the Dark Lord scattered throughout the lands of free men, and even with his prowess as a fighter, his very existence means a great deal.

"Well met," he remarks after a minute or two of silence.


[no worries, we'll be here for a while. :)]

[trigger_man]

Jack has absolutely no idea what an appropriate response to that greeting might be, so he simply nods, his face carefully neutral.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before."

[striding.livejournal.com]

"I'm not surprised." And, there's a reason for it.

Said reason being that Aragorn has never actually been in this particular establishment before, but giving away that kind of information would be silly of him. So he's going to hold onto any kind of advantage he can get.

[penderwydd]

"Madam Bar, I would like some mead," said a grinning Celt sitting at the Bar, his harp resting on her surface. A bowl of bear appeared on the bar's surface with a napkin. "Thankyou."

[striding.livejournal.com]

Yeah, that little stunt doesn't go unnoticed, even if it looks like Aragorn is look at something else from under his hood. While not quite ready to try ordering, this new information is added to what he already knows about where he is.

Which is very little.

[penderwydd]

Tegid took the bowl and sipped at it. It was good. "It is good to be here Bar. It is good to be here."

"Hello," said Tegid suddenly. The lilting of his own language could be heard underneath the translation provided by the Bar.

(occ: is this cool?)

[starrydome]

He recognizes his footfall, soft as it may be.

And he freezes. He is hidden by the shadows of a corner booth and when he finally turns fully, so he can look toward the Bar, he takes great pain to ensure that he stays that way.

And for a moment it is as if time is a frozen river that one may walk back upon.

But beneath the ice, the waters thunder and carries us away.

[striding.livejournal.com]

The narration is not surprised that the Lord of Imladris would known the step of his own foster son, although it is not sure why he'd want to hide. Aragorn does not notice him right away as it it, still gaining the measure of what sort of magical place he seems to have waltzed into.

Or walked, as the case may be.

[starrydome]

Elrond's heart clenches as he watch him, remembering a time that in some ways seemed easier. When his foster-son was a Ranger and not a King. Married to the fairest elven maid. Or so her father would claim.

He fears that this is a bad idea. One should not try to temper with time and fate. Still, he takes a small step out of the shadow of the corner and walks toward his forster-son. Not Elessar, but Aragorn.

[electro_kinetic]

He's getting a stare from the girl with electric blue hair--she's studying him and trying to figure out who he might be under that hood, with that sword. (Yeah, you could say it's not something Nori sees a whole lot, and you're be right.)

She has a glass bottle in one hand, half-full of orange soda; this might only be odd because the hand holding said bottle is covered in metal to her elbows, as is its mate.

[striding.livejournal.com]

Aragorn tries to make a habit of not staring, unless he's in a tense situation that might call for self defense at any moment, so his perusal of the female is perhaps a little more circumspect.

The hair and the metal are unusual, and they might get a longer look than the rest of her.

[electro_kinetic]

That sword is definitely getting most of her attention; that said he's not the only person she's seen with one, but he's definitely the one that looks the least like he's going to start swinging it at people.

"You carry something that big around a lot?"