OOC: This is a train-of-thought style story, based on IC events, but written more from my own point of view than Gloreloth's, as I try to develop his character and reconcile conflicting needs and motivations.
Wrapped in his typical dark-colored cloak and hood, the Elf emerged from the door of the Prancing Pony, and instead of letting Nob fetch his horse, strode to the stable and mounted. As the shadowy horse bore him out of the gate, into the morning sun of Bree-land, Gloreloth reflected on the situation he had just abruptly left. Leaving abruptly was not unusual, but this time his 'pressing matter' had been a rescue from, instead of an inhibition to, further conversation. He had never been good at small-talk or directing conversation, and neither was he good at being dishonest or blunt. It had never become a problem before, but that night it had; he had found himself confronted with questions he could not answer honestly. He would simply have to be less open to conversation, or more willing to be discourteous, as he saw it, in order to avoid certain topics. Of course, it was discourteous of others to pursue a line of questioning that was so obviously unappreciated, but he couldn't control others, only respond. In most other matters, he was confident and capable, but somehow this made him uneasy. Funny, he had never considered himself over-friendly - being more open and engaging had been something he sought - but now being stoic and unapproachable was a desirable quality, a necessary one. But he still wanted to inspire hope in others, to show kindness; and how could a silent, hooded figure do that? Perhaps it was not the time or place to pursue such a goal; this was becoming an issue. Perhaps he needed a story.
