Rrunes!

The figure sat hunched at the table and nurses an ale, his tribe could not
be determined under the pile of rags he wore, every so often he would mutter
to himself, he watched the room intently though noting every detail, there
were few patrons, a leafborn at the bar and what looked like a couple of
foresters, he took a sip of ale.

With a creak the large sturdy door swings open, big enough for a giant to
enter and not have to duck, a small leafborn enters shutting the door behind
her, barefoot and dressed in patched leather armour, the pile of rags turns
back to nursing his ale, she moves across the room and takes a seat at the
bar next to a tall leafborn.

"Hey Strat!, you smell like fire" her feet dangle off the floor.

"you just smell!", he replies as the barkeep ambles over.

"No I dont I just bathed!..I`ll have the usual" she says to the barkeep he
looks at her strangely, "you don`t have a usual".

"Oh well whatever I had last" she waves a hand around vaugely.

The barkeep moves off muttering, " so what have you been up to?" she looks
around the hall, nods to the foresters and does the same to figure, the pile
of rags makes no move.

"just making some ingots, never know when we might need them, what about
you what trouble have you been getting into?" the barkeep returns with a
tankard of something, the girl takes the handle and swallows some down.

"This again?" she asks, the barkeep shakes his head and walks off muttering,
" I heard someone talking about runes..."

At the word runes the pile of rags becomes suddenly animated he stares at
the girl as if to shrink her further.

[following to be read in Scotish/cornish accent mix hope that helps!]
"Rrunes! let me be tellin e aboot Rrunes wee lassie, twas a haRrsh winter and
I heaRrd tell of Rrunes easy ta find oop in tha noRrth, Aye so I away oop an
am huntin feRr days and tha cold was bitin, it was a fools eRrrand nay a thing
di I find, lost thRree fingeRrs on each hand ta fRrostbite an I nay got any
toes left, BAH Rrunes bRring nothin but death and soRrrow" the pile spat in the
fire " dinae hope feRr Rrunes lassie!" the pile drained his ale, grabbed his
staff and hobbled to the door after struggling with the latch, left the Inn.

There was silence for while before Strat said "There you go again upsetting
customers"