Later, when the taverngoers had had their fill, when the drink weighed on people and the energy of the funeral was spent, the self-addressed Silver Lady left with the partygoers, and led the padre to the place she felt most comfortable. After all, she'd spent the last hundred years or so there. In point of fact, this was the place where she'd been their guardian - where she'd 'slept' as a sort of living statue and listened to the heartbeat of their little lives as they carried on around her. She watched over them... then and now.
And so it was that, in a spot shaded with trees and rife with flowers, the elfmaid let her hair down a little, and smiled at the newcomer to town, her eyes glimmering just a tiny bit with a sort of inner light. In fact, in this poor lighting, her whole body seemed to glow with a sort of inner light of its own, which in an elf would indicate age. She sat crossed-legged on a carved stump, and motioned to a nearby log for him to relax.
"You've made quite a journey, Padre - Are you thirsty? The Pommelfruit that grows here is quite palatable." she said, offering him a pastel pink gourd.
