Aspen could hear the faint sounds of laughter and music drifting through the Shire, seeming to mock her as she placed some potatoes and carrots into her pack. She should have been at the festival – should have been the center of attention even – but through no fault of her own she had been banned from the celebration. The back of her throat stung, but no tears came. She had cried so much in the past few days that she couldn't cry any more. Folding her winter cloak and placing it atop the vegetables in her pack, Aspen let her thoughts drift to what might have been.
Her family was originally from the far south of the Shire. A few years ago they had moved to Hobbiton and had been immediately welcomed into their new community. And it was at the first Harvest Festival that her family had attended when Aspen had met a young hobbit named Peregrin "Pippin" Took. He seemed enchanted by Aspen's long dark hair and tan skin, features common in the South, but rare in Hobbiton. It wasn't long before Aspen and Pippin were inseparable. Everyone knew they would eventually marry, and this day was to have been their wedding day.
Shaking her head firmly, Aspen forced herself back to the task of packing. She didn't want to think about what had happened and why Pippin would be standing under the oak tree with Willow instead of her. How someone told a lie about her, and suddenly everyone in Hobbiton was angry with her. Not even her friends and family believed that she had done nothing wrong. But the ultimate betrayal came from her beloved Pippin when he had turned his back on her and had walked away hand-in-hand with Willow.
Swallowing hard to clear the lump in her throat, Aspen carefully wrapped a loaf of bread in a soft cloth, placed the bundle in the top of her pack and took one final look around her home to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. When she was satisfied that she had everything she needed for her journey she closed her pack and settled it on her back, adjusting the shoulder straps for comfort. She wrapped the belt of a full water skin around her waist, grabbed her favorite walking stick and left the house. She glanced in the direction of the Party Field, but turned away from the festivities and began to walk the other way. There was no one on the path to stop her – no one to ask where she was going – because they were all at the Faire.
Reaching the outer edge of the town, Aspen turned and took one last, lingering look at her former home. Then she turned back and resumed her journey, determined never to return to the Shire.
