[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

Having managed to finish his sales, Beriadan had began packing his stall up as his thoughts went to what else he can do. No one knew of his High-Elven heritage, nor his status at court around this area so that of course ruled out joining the feast. (He was never one for socialising anyway, he recalled how often he became more acquainted with the wine than his fellow guests.)

Deciding he may as well head on home, he picked up his now empty crates and loaded it up onto his cart and leapt onto his horse's back. Whistling a low note, his horse began trotting off towards the direction of his farmlands. Humming a tune under his breath, he closed his eyes, relishing the cool might air caressing his dark skin. He felt a smile tug on his lips as he settled himself onto his horse's back.

It was moments like these that he was grateful that he did not keep to his homeland...or else he would have been sent as an envoy to that feast. Though he tolerated dwarves, he never was as close to them as his younger cousins were. He was civil, polite and diplomatic but not exactly the most friendly.

Seeing his humble dwelling made his smile grow a bit wider and he urged his horse to go even the smallest bit faster, excited to just be home and sleep away the night before he returns to his usual cycle of waking at dawn and toiling late into the day.

((The attachment below is my design of Beriadan))