"Humans are fun. Gondorians are pretty stuffy, and don't trade with my kind, but the Rohirrim and folks of Eriador aren't too bad. There's more humans to the east and south, too, and once you get away from places with Numenorian history they get pretty good."

"East and south it is, then."

Macilnië hops down from the rock and starts walking, calling back over her shoulder,

"You can fill me in on the Rohirrim and Eriador on the way."

She follows.

"Sure. Eriador's most of what's over this range. Speak Westron, mostly. North of it's the Lone Lands. Couple of settlements, there, but not much. South part's got more people, and the Greenway runs towards Rohan..."

She seems cheerful as she talks.

Macilnië grins and feels the sunlight on her body as they walk.  She moves faster, as though the energy is pushing its way out of her skin.

"What do you like to do?"

"Explore. Talk to people. Cause a bit of chaos here and there. Fight, when I get a good opportunity."

Macilnië grins.  "Have any good chaos stories?"

"Perhaps a few. Mostly depends on what you consider 'good chaos.'"

"Subverting power structures and enfranchising the disenfranchised, I suppose.  Or maybe just annoying annoying people."

She laughs, and launches into a few stories - she apparently steals from, arranges the downfall of, or otherwise causes problems for 'rich lordling' orcs pretty often, to the point where the self-styled Goblin King has a notably high bounty on her head (the feeling's mutual; she's trying to arrange his death, and trying to do it without destabilizing the entire northern Misty Mountains like some acquaintance of her said she would). She also tells a long and involved story involving screwing with someone's spy and informant network, and one about that time she got press-ganged into someone's (small) army, arranged to steal his army out from under him, and then had a series of adventures trying to feed said army without them just pillaging the countryside.

She's apparently been all over the world, from the Blue Mountains of the West to the islands off the world's Eastern shore, to the far reaches of the South, and has lived a life on a rather elven scale, given the handful of time frames she mentions.

Macilnië listens raptly to the stories, interjecting questions occasionally (particularly about plans for the overthrow of the goblin king and the logistics of army-feeding.

At what seems like a pause, she tells a few stories of her own (smaller in scale), several of which center on liberal interpretations of assignments she has been given, and ways in which she twisted them to amuse herself.  She has no stories of travel or major exploits, and by the end she trails off, saying, "Sorry, I've never been out of Lothlorien before."

"You've made an interesting enough life for yourself, anyways. And now you have the whole exciting world in front of you."

"I suppose I do."

It would be hard for an observer (internal or external) to tell whether Macilnië looks excited or petrified.

She laughs. "Freedom takes a bit of getting used to, doesn't it?"