Arlen let the figures speak, hoping the uncomfortable feeling of regret he had would soon settle. Somehow, he always found the friendliest people on the road. He smiled haphazardly, focusing on the Queen. He didn't recognize her in the slightest. As the wolves settled down, his body language became less rigid as he began to answer some of the queries imposed upon him.
"Well, uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"First off, allow me to introduce myself! I am Arlen."
He pulled the
mandola into the playing position from off of his back, striking a chord.
"And I attempt to entertain anyone who has ears to listen. But I must admit it's a long road, and I'd rather be in the city. More coin to be made there."
He smiled, beginning to play a soft song on the stringed instrument. He had entertained rough crowds before, but even the very books within this tent seemed tense and full of pent up despair. As the notes continued to float through the air, he cautiously entered the tent. The music he played was simple, but it was bright and honest, well rehearsed and full of heart. To some who have listened before they might say it reminded them of simpler days, and may even give them some sort of nebulous feeling of hope. Of course, that all depends on the ears it falls upon. He played for a few minutes, trying to gauge how he was doing, rather unsuccessfully.
"So I've divulged my intentions and reasons for being here, what about you?" He attempted to keep up his cheery demeanor, despite his fatigue, awaiting a response.