The elfe looked up from her silent reverie at the diminutive human girl's approach. "Oh. No, please," she replied as she sat up straighter in her chair and gestured to the seat across from her. Gwen wasn't outgoing by nature but times like these seemed to make one alternately eager for company and desperate for solitude. Right now she was the former - anything to help banish the dark thoughts welling up in her after the fall of Armandy and her flight therefrom. As the young woman took the seat, Gwen pulled her unstrung bow and sheathed sword to the ground beside her, and pulled her own drink a little closer to herself instead of taking up the entirety of the small table like a flag placed on newfound land.
"I am Gwenonwyn Bheara," she said, raising the wooden mug in a sort of greeting. If the human was familiar with elfe culture she might have heard of the family name - it was a sizeable offshoot of the Bheara'duranan bloodline, a legacy as ancient as any in Verold. The full 'duranan name didn't have a succinct translation into the common tongue, but Bheara essentially meant Moonshine, a name she sometimes went by. "You may call me Gwen if you wish."
After that the elfe let the woman alone for a few minutes, in case she wanted to order food or drink, or maybe just solitude while she dried off from her travels. After a few moments, though, the elfe felt ready to speak. "Where do you travel from?" she asked, hoping it did not seem too inquisitive. Sorrel really only had one high road - the Westwegh - traveling through it, but with its many offshoots it was possible the woman came from virtually any direction. Most of the inn was stuffed with refugees from the recently fallen Armandy to the east, like Gwen herself, but the elfe hoped that this girl was from anywhere else, so that they could trade information. "I come from Armandy. I hope you don't plan on traveling east."