As the two men and a dragon search the grounds, they find an empty place, not just devoid of life, but devoid of things as well.  There are no weapons, no dishes, clothing, not so much as a spoon.  Only the one room looks lived in.  Everything else is immaculately empty.

Ferb returns after being gone for about an hour.  He chitters at Toben briefly then curls up on his shoulder.

Toben raises an eyebrow. "The bear is a female? Ok..." He pauses for a moment after wondering how or why he would get close enough to find out. "Did it at least seem friendly?"

Ryland arches an eyebrow at the mention of the word female, but quickly settles in to a frown and mocks a spitting sound when recalling the subject matter is a bear.

Ferb chatters at Toben's shoulder.

Toben cocks his head at a weird angle so that he is as close to eye-to-eye with Ferb as possible. "Nothing about a bear bathing in a pool sounds unusual to me at all. What is it that you're not telling me?"

Ferb whirls around and scampers to Toben's other shoulder, chitters a moment then plops his head down.

Toben sighs heavily. "You know all this furry cuteness isn't always going to save you. At some point, we're going to have to have a real chat."

He looks over to Ryland. "I'd be surprised if there's anything of real interest here. Although, I've got a hunch that we should check out this waterfall." Toben darts a look of slight disdain towards Ferb but washes away any perceived insult with a scratch on his head.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Tue 13 Feb 2018.

"If we must" says Ryland, and starts off to navigate his way down to the falls.

The pathway down to the falls and the lake it feeds is a winding one full of growth.  There is only a faint roar for a bit as the sound is soaked up by the trees, fines, and bushes.  This eventually clears and the roar becomes more prominent.  Occasionally, there are glimpses of the lake as the three get closer.  Ferb seems to be asleep on Toben's shoulder.

A large splash leaves behind a large set of concentric circles as the two men finally come into view of the lake and the small, sandy beach beside it.  In the sand are all kinds of furrows, indecipherable tracks, and even a few decent sized bear paw marks.

There is also a pile of clothes.  A female's clothes.

Toben announces their presence as to not appear to be a couple of creepers trying to sneak peeks at a woman bathing.

"Hello? Is anyone out there?"

A mound of water rises up out of the lake encasing the figure of a woman in leather under-garments as she stands.  She tosses her head back and a long mane of hair flings water back in a cascade thirty feet behind her.  The woman turns to face the shore, raises and eyebrow, and stalks toward the two men standing there, foot crossing in front of the other with each step.  When she stands before them, she is looking down at them while standing on even ground.

"You are tall for Shire Folk."  Her accent is thick, foreign; her voice a husky alto.  "Have you come to see ze ghosts of Rivendell...or stare at Vitalya like two teen boys in heat?"

Toben quickly averts his eyes and turns around the other direction. "Not from the Shire and we bear you no ill will. If it's all the same to you, we'd prefer to leave as quickly as we arrived. We are searching for something, but didn't expect to find anyone in these ruins."

Ryland follows Toben's lead and averts his gaze. It takes him a second or two longer though. "What my compatriot means to say, my dear lady, is that we're looking for large cups.. I mean goblets, of elvish make. Would you happen to have any you'd be willing to sell to us?".

The woman rolls her eyes at Ryland.  "You dink you are cute one, da?"  She reaches down to grab her clothing and a strange looking club that looks more like a carved bear paw at the end.  "You no doubt refer to cups I have in room.  Dey are dwarvish, not elfin.  Der is nuthing left of elf here in Rivendell but buildings.  Come.  I dress in room.  We talk."

A brisk wind picks up from nowhere as she walks, still crossing her feet in front of each other in a very distracting manner.  By the time the four reach her room, she is completely dried and the wind ends suddenly.  Without care for her audience, she dons her other clothes over the leather undergarments she had been swimming in.

"I would 'preciate you return my cups.  Dey are gift from dwarf friends."  She measures Toben for a moment, then turns her gaze upon Ryland and holds it there.

"Ah, right. Sorry. So, you know the dwarves then?" says Ryland, as he slips the goblets back on the nightstand with a sheepish look on his face, and pockets his platinum coin.

She sits in a delicate-looking chair, which does not budge as it takes her weight.  Her leather pants are close fitting in a serviceable way, but not tight.  She crosses her leg and folds her hands on her knee.  "Da.  I know of ze dwarfs.  I know a dwarf.  Man named Fori.  He trade with Beornlings who live east of Mirkwood between forest and mountains.  What are you doing so far from realms of men?  Are you of Gondor?"

Her tone is amicable, that of traders swapping news at the trading post.

Toben's ears perk up. "You know Fori?" He actually belts out a laugh. "How is that old goat?"

"I hail from Gondor, yes. Not entirely sure about my friend here".

The woman frowns.  "I have not seen Fori in over year.  He only trade sparsely with Beornlings, mostly for information.  You know heem too?"

"Yeah, sure do. He got us out of quite a pickle with the Gonhirrim, Durina and her clansmen. Good thing too. Actually formed a pretty good friendship with them before leaving the mountain." Toben scratches a chin that seems to be impervious to hair growth. "I guess that would have been about six months ago."

In all the excitement, he'd completely forgotten his manners. "Sorry, I never introduced myself." Toben extends a hand. "My name is Toben. I come from a small village named Iron Springs. East of Rohan."

The woman frowns as Toben speaks of the dwarves.  "Gon-heerim?  Doo-rin-ah?  I don't know zees names.  Only Fori.  You have been under mountain?  Lonely Mountain?  You are from duchies, yes?  And Gondor?"  She says the last, turning to Ryland.  "Why are you in Rivendell looking for cups?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:13, Fri 16 Feb 2018.

"We're trying to aid a friend who needs a rather powerful spell. One of the items called for is a goblet of elvish make of at least around four thousand years old. Our friend, she isn't well, and a terrible darkness seeks to bind her".

"Gonhirrim. It's what the dwarves call themselves. Apparently, they don't like the word "dwarf" much but seem to tolerate it with outsiders. We met them near the mines of Moria, within the Misty Mountains a bit further south of here."

Toben backtracks a bit in the conversation. "You mentioned Shire folk? You've met with people from the Shire? Did you ever do any trading with them too?"

Vitalya nods.  "Yes.  I have trade with ze Shire.  Dey are west of heer."  She tilts her head and looks at the ceiling, thinking for a moment.  "If you need elfin goblet, maybe Grey Havens to west will have.  It lies empty of elfs like Rivendell, but not empty of other things.  It is not nice place.  Filled with Dumbledors, Gonger, Mewlips, and other things of dis nature.  Dey are lead by ze last of ze Olog-Hai."

At that moment, there is a rush of wind outside on the balcony.  Windfang pokes his head in.  "Find anything, mates?  Oh, a girl.  G'day.  M'name's-"