Fin's fourth entry

Time to admit. Okay. Riften isn't as big as I had imagined it. In my head it was a massive metropolis of fishing, hunting and bargaining, a city stuffed with people and voices breaking each other off. I had heard so many stories from Lucan who would travel to Riften to sell or buy goods, not always legally I suspect. Perhaps he had spiced up the stories for the sake of entertainment or perhaps they just sounded far more impressive because I was a young lad then. But here I was, Sun was setting and the dusty rain was tapping on my hood. Not many people were outside, I suspected they had all just packed up because of the rain, so I headed towards the building from which the most noise and light seemed to come. I turned the corner to discover its sign flapping about in the wind; The Bee and Barb. I opened the door and slipped in quietly not to draw anymore attention to myself than needed. I quickly saw that my carefulness was ill needed because everyone was minding theirs and the door couldn't be heard over the sound of loud conversation. It was a wonderful sight to have walked into such a lively place, more lively than the Sleeping Giant Inn had ever been. A pale looking Argonian woman with horrid eyes was stood behind the counter, yelling at an Argonian man with a broomstick. Not wanting to disturb the woman in the midst of her conversation, I slipped onto a stool by the counter next to a leather hooded figure already occupying the stool next to the one I had claimed. I unhooked my bow, that was attached to my back and placed it leaning against the counter on the floor. Or that is, I would have put it there wasn't it for an other bow already in its place, a golden one of Elven-looking craftsmanship. I kept glaring at it for a moment, compared to my home-crafted wooden bow, this was a magnificent piece of work. "A marksman, eh?" I looked up at the owner of the soft voice to see a face whose top half was hidden behind a leather hood yet the jaws and the lips ratted him out to me. "A fellow kinsman, I see. Such a handsome bow." His mouth fell into shape of a discreet smile and he reached out for me to shake his hand. "Keerava, get my Elven-brother a bucket of ale."

- Fin Larksong