Even centuries ago, he wasn't a frequenter of taverns and the like. The reason had escaped him long enough to find himself wandering into one such establishment. It was nestled in between two rock faces, and shielded from the wind. Meant to be a place of rest for those who chose to travel on the road, no doubt. From afar, Jonas nearly missed the sight of it, if it wasn't for the stables and number of whinnying horses, he would have.
The day was growing dark when he headed inside. And regret filled him like an old chamber pot. He should have stayed outside, he thought at first, but when the warmth of hot coals on a fire started to seep into his bones to revive them he couldn't find the strength inside himself to meander back out. Not tonight. And not the next night. Or the next. While not an INN, it had a couple rooms to spare for travellers, and that's where he stayed. He grew used to the kind of patrons that would visit from neighbouring towns and came to like their company - or at least their stories.
This night he sat at a table with two large men that smelt distinctly like their horses, and listened to the rumours they were able to gather on the road. Such things were useful. Such things had some truth in them, that he had learned. He would trade his own knowledge, whatever that might have been worth. The tavern simmered down to quiet whispers as the door opened and the rush of wind blew in, along with a woman.
Jonas moved slightly, peering around his company to get a look at her, much like many of the others were doing. The old walls did not see many woman, from what people had told him, and he frowned at the lecherous expressions drawn on one or two of the patrons.
