:::
III III III
When Anne woke up the next morning, it took her a couple of moments to remember why she felt so worried and glum. It came back to her, however, after her eyes had fallen upon Legolas, who was busy watering the horses. Today was her last day with him, her last day before Bree, and before she would have to face whatever was awaiting her there. For a while she just sat there, watching as Pippin was trying to get a fire started, without really seeing him.
Finally, the Hobbit turned around and, upon noticing that she was awake, said: "At last! I was wondering whether we would have to throw you into the back of the cart like a sack of turnips. Well, this way you can make yourself useful – I need some dry kindling, this fire will not burn decently."
"A good morning to you too," Anne muttered rather sourly, while getting to her feet with some effort.
Pippin threw her a wicker basket. "Here, you don't need to collect them inside your skirt – if you had one, that is."
"Bring some more water, while you are at it," Legolas called over to them.
"Yes, yes, happy to oblige," Anne said sullenly, but all the same, she went to take the water bucket from the Elf before he might be tempted to throw that at her as well.
"Oh, and if you can find any twigs or small branches that are not completely sodden, bring those too!" Pippin called after her, when she had already grabbed a bundle of clean clothes and was stalking off through the trees.
There was a slow-flowing stream nearby, but the bank was so steep, stony and overgrown with brambles that they had quickly given up on leading the horses down to the water, and instead decided to carry it up, using the buckets that Pippin had offered for the purpose.
Once she had washed up and changed into the fresh garments, Anne felt decidedly better. She left the filled bucket at the top of the bank, and went to collect the leaves and branches for the fire. When, about half an hour later, she walked back towards their camp, it suddenly hit her that they would probably reach the town that very evening, or even in the late afternoon. This meant that she would not spend another night in the company of the Elf. An odd thought … the next time she woke up it would be in a strange place. Not that she actually had had time to get used to the places she had been at so far, but for some strange reason, she felt like she was about to be ripped out of a home – or at least something close to it.
'This is ridiculous,' she said to herself. 'I have to stay somewhere! Surely, Bree is going to be a much closer thing to 'home' than anywhere I have been of late.'
Except for Carrockton maybe, she reasoned. Then there was, of course, her real former home. Laketown, Legolas had called it. However, while she did remember Carrockton and its people, and actually cared for some of them, Laketown was just a name that evoked nothing in her. This was probably a horrible thing to think, especially since she, most likely, still had family there - people who cared for her. And yet, if she did, if they were still there, then why had she fled? Not only her, she reprimanded herself, but also her brother... Elias? She could not even remember him, and although she felt a vague and somewhat too rational sense of guilt about this, it made her wonder...
Even if she were to return to Laketown, would it still be home?
Anne stared down at the water she was carrying, wondering for a moment - and not for the first time - what on earth she was doing here.
:::
"About time!" Anne was greeted by Pippin when she arrived at the campsite. "We were beginning to wonder where you might have got to."
"Sorry," Anne mumbled, while handing Legolas the water, ignoring the odd look he was giving her.
It took them another half hour to get the fire burning, and almost another whole hour for it to become hot enough to cook anything on it. There were some leftovers from the night before as well as freshly baked tomatoes, and Pippin even managed to dig up some tea from among his belongings.
When they set off once more, it was already mid-morning, but as far as Anne was concerned they could have delayed a bit longer; she was in no hurry to reach their destination. For a while she brooded things over, sitting once more next to Pippin in the driving seat. At last she was brought out of her thoughts by the Hobbit, who reminded her that they still had to finish the story from last night. Anne, who was more than glad for the distraction, eagerly agreed, and soon she was once more being entranced by the account of Bilbo Baggins' extraordinary journey.
When, a couple of hours later, Pippin reached the end of his tale, Anne had actually managed to forget about their impending arrival in Bree and what may or may not await her there. It was several minutes after the Hobbit (by then already sounding slightly hoarse) had finally finished telling about the outcome of the terrible battle of the five armies, and Bilbo's triumphant returning home, that Anne spoke again.
"I cannot believe how brave he was," she muttered. "So little… –" Clearing her throat, she glanced sideways at Pippin, who raised his eyebrows – "Well, smaller than, all the rest of them - and yet he just climbed out, knowing that everyone – both those huge armies - were waiting out there, and he just walked right into the middle of their camp! He really was courageous, and so... so -"
"Pragmatic?" Pippin asked, grinning. "Of course he was, he was a Hobbit! Why climb over the hill if you can knock and ask your neighbour whether you may use his back-door?"
"Er..."
"Exactly! Bilbo realised that he was the only one who might have enough common sense to be able to prevent that unnecessary fight."
"Well, he was up against a lot of stubbornness from all sides," Anne said, shaking her head. "And I must say – even King Thranduil and his Elves seem a bit self-serving."
"Ah, but you must not forget that he considered part of the treasure rightfully his and his people's property," Pippin objected while glancing at Legolas, who was riding several paces in front of them, as if worried how the Elf might react to Anne's comment on his kinsmen. "Also, he did rush to the aid of the people from Esgaroth, and he listened to Bilbo and agreed to try things his way. After all, in the end it was King Thranduil who chose to defend Bilbo when the battle began."
"Yes," Anne said slowly. "but so many lives lost! How tragic that, in the end, they had to fight anyway… despite Bilbo's effort -"
"His effort was not in vain," Legolas said unexpectedly. "War and battle always entail death, but it could have been far worse. Among the Elves, Bilbo Baggins will always be remembered for his courage – as well as his cunningness, I daresay."
Pippin was suddenly grinning.
"Is it true that your father always had an inkling of what really was going on, even before he knew that it had been Bilbo rescuing the dwarves? Gandalf once mentioned something…"
The Hobbit's words reminded Anne of something that Legolas had said the day before – something she had in fact been meaning to ask about.
"Right," she said quickly to Pippin. "What does his father have to do with all this?" She tried to stare holes into the Elf's back, which did not appear to work – at least he did not turn around. "What did you mean when you said 'to my father's chagrin'?"
"Well, those were after all his cells, they escaped from, weren't they?" Pippin replied, sounding a bit bewildered. "Of course King Thranduil would mind that his prisoners disappeared from right under his nose like, would he not?"
Anne stared at him, uncomprehending. "But, what does he have to do - I thought you said that Legolas' father had …" Then, the penny dropped at last - and with some impact. Anne gasped.
"What! But…" She looked from Legolas' impassive stature to Pippin's bemused expression, and back to the Elf. "You're his son?"
"Ah," said Pippin as he uncertainly glanced from Anne to Legolas. "I take it, you did not know that, er …" He trailed off, coughing slightly.
Legolas finally turned his head, throwing Anne a brief glance over his shoulder.
"Does it matter?" he asked evenly, while turning back forward.
Anne, who had been staring at him slightly open-mouthed, blinked. Then she frowned.
"No," she said slowly, still frowning. "It doesn't matter. The thing is," she then continued in a low voice, leaning towards the Hobbit, "It never occurred to me that he might actually be a lord of some sort."
Pippin snorted and did his best to look suitably indignant on behalf of his friend – though he did seem a little amused nonetheless.
"Now, now," he spluttered, "I refuse to believe that Legolas would treat a lady with anything but deference, respect and kindness!"
"Er," said Anne, glancing at Legolas, who had not reacted, though she was certain he must have heard the exchange. She hurriedly turned back to the Hobbit.
"Um - so, it's really warm for this time of-"
"We need to stop for a moment," said Legolas.
Pippin and Anne both glanced up at the Elf, who had brought his horse to a halt. Pippin stopped the wagon, glancing about them with an air of unease.
"What is the matter now, then? Not more bush robbers, I hope."
"No," said Legolas. "There is, however, something we should attend to before we reach the town." So saying he dismounted, pulled something that appeared to be a large bundle of folded cloth out of his pack, and, motioning for Anne to come with him, stepped through the trees that bordered the road and then vanished into the underbrush.
Pippin watched them curiously as Anne climbed off the cart with a sinking feeling in her stomach. This could not be good, she was sure of it.
They did not go very far. Anne nearly walked right into the Elf when he suddenly stopped and turned around, glancing into the direction of the road, as if to make sure that they were out of sight, before looking down at her.
While trying to recover some personal space by backing away several steps, Anne groaned inwardly - fairly convinced that she was going to be read the riot act because of her comment from before. She felt a bit aggrieved since, as far as she was concerned, she had not even said anything really discriminating, and Legolas could hardly know what she would have liked to say. (Indeed it had been nothing flattering, but that was beside the point.)
The Elf drew his eyebrows together ever so slightly, as if he had guessed her thoughts (More likely her expression spoke volumes once again) – but then he merely handed her the folded material that he had brought with him. Puzzled, Anne took it – it was quite a bit heavier than she had expected – and shook it slightly so it would unfold. She stared at the silvery green and wine-red fabric for several moments, before realising that it was one of her gowns – one of those she had deliberately left behind in the Eryn Lasgalen. Scooping up the length of the skirt so it would not drag over the ground, she looked up at the Elf.
"Where on earth did this come from?" she asked him. "I thought, I left it at the cave."
"Yes, and that is where it comes from. I noticed you put all your dresses in that bag you left behind. I packed it shortly before we set out."
"You did, huh," Anne muttered, thinking of the assortment of frilly undershifts and underwear that had also been in that bag. "And what should I do with it now?"
"You should don it, of course," said Legolas slowly, and a little over-articulated, once again managing to make her feel immensely stupid for even having asked a question, and that without so much as moving a single muscle in his face. "I shall wait behind those blackberry bushes."
"Why?" Anne asked quickly before he could just walk off.
The Elf halted and turned half around to look at her. "Why? I should think that, considering my previous experiences with you in that particular regard, you would want me as far away as possible."
Anne waved her hand impatiently. "You know perfectly well that's not what I meant. Why do you think it necessary for me to smarten up, all of a sudden? I will probably only ruin the thing while trying to climb on or off the cart, and, frankly, I don't see what difference this crumpled, musty thing should make. I thank you for wanting me to make a good first impression, but I'm not sure that …"
She trailed off when he sighed and shook his head at her.
"Has it never occurred to you that you being in my company without any sort of female chaperone may cause enough offence, as it is?" He indicated her clothes with his head. "We do not need to add fuel to the flames by having you enter the village while clad in such a way."
"Then he bent forward slightly so they were on eye-level, his expression non-committal. When he spoke, his voice was unusually pleasant. "And your 'first impression' is, in all honesty, of no concern to me."
With that, he straightened, turned and walked away.
Anne glowered at his back for a moment and then proceeded to try and change into the dress as quickly as she possibly could. This turned out to be an exceedingly challenging task; the fastenings of the gown consisted of a lacing as well as a number of tiny hooks, both at the front and back of the garment. Since Anne would have rather eaten the darn thing than to ask for help, it took her quite a while to get herself into a halfway presentable state. Once done, she folded the clothes she had just discarded and formed them into a bundle. She briefly considered, defiance playing no small part in this, shoving them down the front of her dress for safekeeping – the thing was certainly roomy enough. Either she had lost a little weight during the last few weeks or it was simply meant to be a rather loose fit. However, having a fairly good idea of what Legolas' reaction would be if he found out that she had stuffed the front of her bodice with clothes, she opted to keep them in her hand, instead. The long and ample skirt got entangled between her legs and made walking extremely awkward. She could now see why women would wear slips or underskirts. The neckline was high and relatively modest, so she was grateful for that at least.
Hitching up the skirt as she went and feeling utterly out of place, Anne stomped back towards the low wall of brambles, where the Elf had been waiting with his arms folded and his back to her. When he heard her approach, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a scrutinising look; apparently satisfied with what he saw, he turned and strode off towards the road. Finding that her new attire was limiting her movements quite considerably, Anne followed at a more cautious pace, and in a significantly fouler mood than before.
Pippin gaped slightly when she inelegantly climbed back up onto the wagon and had already opened his mouth, when Anne beat him to it.
"Not a word," she muttered.
Pippin just coughed, unsuccessfully tried to hide a grin, and left it at that.
:::
It was late afternoon when the small group saw the first signs of 'beginning civilisation'. The dirt track they had been following, smoothly joined a broader, and much tidier looking road, which ran almost straight west. Pippin had been entertaining Anne with stories and anecdotes of both himself and various other hobbits from his circle of friends and acquaintances - which seemed to be rather wide. The last couple of hours had actually passed in a quite enjoyable way, although it became quite a bit cooler as the afternoon progressed, until Anne had to ask Pippin to stop the cart so she could go and fetch her cloak.
Suddenly, the Hobbit interrupted his account of one of the more embarrassing events concerning his friend Merry, and pointed to the right; following his outstretched hand with her eyes, Anne saw lights twinkling some distance away.
At once she felt nerves beginning to flit around in her stomach. It seemed like they were almost there. Squinting, Anne could make out a number of houses that were nestled against the dark outline of a hill, but since dusk was already closing in, she could not see much else.
"There lies Staddle, where most of the Hobbits of Bree live," said Legolas.
Though his voice had been soft, Anne started, not having noticed that he had reined back his horse and was riding alongside them.
She peered at the lights in the distance once more. "We are not there yet?" she asked, feeling vaguely embarrassed by the clear relief in her voice.
"No, but it is not much further now." The Elf twisted around on his stallion's back in order to look at Pippin. "You are coming with us, I assume?"
"Well, certainly. In Bree, it should be easier to find someone who might sell me a horse than Staddle. Rudigar Hayward, one of Merry's second cousins, lives just down the road from the inn, I seem to recall - he might be able to help, too. Some of this cargo is meant for him, you must know. Also, I admit, it will be nice to see the dear old Pony again."
"I might have known," muttered the Elf.
Anne found it odd that Pippin already seemed to have a new animal in mind, but the certain knowledge that they had almost reached the end of their journey kept her from dwelling on the matter. She glumly stared ahead into the now quickly falling dusk, and wondered what would happen to her once they had arrived. Would Legolas simply drop her off at the first chance possible and wave her goodbye? She involuntarily snorted at the mental image, but quickly became sober again, upon realising that this was in fact not too unlikely a possibility. (Apart from the waving, that is.)
On the other hand - he had come here to meet with someone, she now recalled. At the very least it would take some time for him to find whoever it was he was looking for, and then, surely, there would be arrangements that had to be made, things he had to see to before he could set out again for what certainly would be another long journey.
Why am I even worrying about this, she darkly asked herself.
No matter whether he was planning to stay for an hour or a week – the outcome would be the same, and she really had better get used to the idea that he was about to vanish from her life and instead get accommodated to her new situation. Always assuming that there even would be someplace where people were willing to take her in.
Anne cringed a little at that thought. It truly was humiliating to be so dependant on other's goodwill and mercy. Perhaps, if she could find work as soon as possible, she wouldn't feel completely useless, and this whole thing might get a lot easier to cope with. Being in the company of the Elf, this had not been quite so noticeable. While no doubt she had been rather useless to him as well, he had never really made a mention of it, or giving the impression that he was doing her a favour.
Anne groaned, causing Pippin to throw her a worried side-glance. This would not do at all. She mustn't start comparing her life so far with the one she was about to lead, or rather if she did compare them, it had to be to the latter one's benefit. She needed to be positive about this.
Anne was so immersed in her thoughts that she only barely noticed that Pippin started chattering away at both her and the Elf again. When about an hour later he suddenly fell silent she did not realise it until he slightly nudged her. Startled, she looked at him.
"Hm? Oh, I'm sorry – did you say something?"
He pointed ahead. "There is the South-gate of Bree."
Already?
Not feeling prepared at all, Anne looked about her. The road they were on had been running parallel to a deep ditch for the last few minutes or so, and beyond the ditch there was a high and thick hedge, now blocking the dark silhouette of the hill from view. Straight ahead of them, however, the hedge curved, seemingly intersecting the road. After a moment, Anne saw that the hedge was indeed broken by a gate, and the road led over the ditch by a causeway and into the village itself.
The gate was shut and, whereas not as high as the hedge, looked thoroughly uninviting – though, perhaps, she was not the most unbiased person to make this judgment. Just beyond the gate, she could see a small lodge, presumably for a gatekeeper – but its door was closed as well. For a brief moment, Anne dared to believe that they might actually be forced to spend the night outside the village after all – but then the cart had come to a halt with a creaking noise; Pippin climbed off the driving-seat and walked up to the gate. Looking sideways, Anne saw that Legolas, who had brought Dûrfang to a stop next to the cart, had drawn his hood over his head. Feeling somehow ill at ease, she turned her attention back to the Hobbit, who had now reached the gate and stopped in front of it.
"Good evening!" he shouted. "Open up, if you please. We are three travellers from the east, and we are weather-beaten, weary and thirsty from many days on the road. Come now, I know you must have heard us coming!"
The door of the lodge opened, the flickering light of open fire streaming out, and an old man with a rather stern expression appeared, carrying a lantern and leaning on a walking stick as he approached the gate.
"Good evening," he said while peering down at the Hobbit. "You come from the east, you say? I expect you are making for the inn, then. Are you seeking refuge here?" During those last words, his eyes travelled over Anne, who was still sitting in the driving-seat and wrapped in her cloak.
"No, just on my way back from visiting friends," said Pippin lightly. "As for my companions, they have business here in the village, and you will have to ask them about it yourself - if they are willing to share their private matters with you, that is."
"Hmm, is that so," muttered the gatekeeper, eying both Anne and Legolas, who was sitting on his horse like a statue, with newly awakened interest.
Pippin, obviously realising his mistake, went on in a ringing voice. "Listen, good man, will you please let us in already. We desire nothing but a warm bed, something descent to drink and a proper meal, though not necessarily in that order. Since when has it become a custom for the good folk of Bree to deny innocent travellers with nothing but their own fair and honest dealings entry to their once so hospitable town, I must wonder?"
"Since few travellers from the east look innocent anymore," the man growled. "And if your dealings are as honest and fair as you say, one should expect you to complete them before nightfall, I might add - but that's just old Tod's opinion, of course."
Nevertheless, he opened the gate and let them through, albeit grumbling. Also, when Pippin had climbed back onto the cart and they were slowly rolling past the old gatekeeper's lodge, Anne noticed that he was still scrutinising them in a rather distrustful way.
Once they had left the gate and the lodge behind, the road was ascending slightly, with the hillside to their right and what seemed to be little fields or vegetable gardens to their left. After a while, the lights of the first houses appeared in some distance; they seemed to be blinking at them through the dark, Anne thought, as every now and then the trunks of the odd tree and the wild, low growing brambles, which bordered the road, would obscure her view. When they came round the foot of the hill, they could see many brightly-lit windows, shining yellow and warm.
Soon they were passing lamp-lit houses as the cart rolled through the narrow main street of the village; all of them were made of stone, and many were multi-storeyed. It was still early evening, and there was a fair number of people about, throwing curious glances at all three of them, when passing them by. A small group of young men, who were singing merrily, was ambling along in their wake. Above the general hum of mirth and conversation, Anne could only understand snatches of their song, but it seemed to be rather vulgar, which made her suspect that they might have already 'had a few' – despite the fact that they were going in the same direction, and the men therefore probably on their way to and not from the inn.
Anne stared about herself, slightly dazzled by the bright light of lanterns and windows, (though the latter were often half obscured by thick curtains) and she felt herself being gripped by both faint anxiety as well as something close to excitement.
They were just passing by another house with an open door, from which a broad rectangle of light fell on the low steps that led to the doorway and onto the pavement; a woman was leaning in the doorframe, talking animatedly to another one, who was standing at the bottom of the steps, and was clutching bulging sacs in both hands, as if she had been on her way home or back to work from some errand. A little further down the road, three girls between the age of fourteen and eighteen were busy emptying tubs and large pots filled with washing or cooking water, as well as kitchen scraps, chattering away happily as they worked.
"Well then, here we are at last!" Pippin suddenly said in a very satisfied voice.
They had halted outside a double-winged three-storey building, and now the Hobbit carefully steered the cart towards an archway that seemed to lead into a courtyard. Just before they passed through under it, Anne caught a glimpse of a wooden sign that hung from the arch: it showed a white, rather fat pony in mid-rear. At least now she knew which 'dear old Pony' Pippin had been talking about before.
Two young women, who looked like they might be serving wenches, were sat on the steps in front of the large doorway to the inn, underneath the arch. Seeing them, a sudden thought struck Anne. Was it possible that Legolas intended for her to stay at the inn? Not just the night, but indefinitely? Was she perhaps the reason, why he had wanted to come here – to ask whether they needed a new maid?
Feeling glum once more, she surreptitiously looked at the two women; they were holding steaming cups, from which they were sipping every now and then, and watching the oncoming small company with mild interest. One of them turned around and shouted something. Within seconds, a young, slightly pimply-faced man appeared in the doorway; he grinned, bowing, and asked whether he might be of assistance. His eyes flickered from the Hobbit to the Elf, apparently unsure of whom to address. This time it was Legolas who answered, while dismounting smoothly and pulling the hood off his head. His face could have been made of marble for all the life it showed.
"We need accommodation for the night – three rooms if possible - and the horses need to be stabled and looked after."
The youth stared up at the Elf, seemingly dumbstruck for a moment - but that was nothing compared to the reaction of the serving maids. They had become very still for a few seconds – only to then start giggling in a would-be hushed sort of way, while repeatedly nudging each other. Anne, wondering what on earth they might have been drinking from those cups, stared at them for a second before turning to Pippin, in order to quietly share this thought. The hobbit, however, did not seem to find anything peculiar about the girls' behaviour.
Meanwhile, the young male servant seemed to have recovered from his awe - or shock, and hastened to assure them that he would see to the horses' well-being himself, before beckoning them inside with another bow. Legolas had the grace to wait for Pippin and Anne to climb off the wagon, then he led the way up the broad steps and through the doorway. The serving wenches were still quietly giggling, but rose and politely made room for them; both girls threw the Elf surreptitious looks while curtseying as he passed them. Anne, who felt somehow irritated by this, stared morosely ahead as she followed the other two into the inn's dimly lit entrance area.
What in the world did they see in him, anyway? He hadn't smiled, nor indeed even looked at them twice. This just went to prove how easily one could be misled by appearances. They were probably labouring under the misapprehension that he was some sort of high-bred, sophisticated lord, whose lack of courtesy was merely a testament to his noble descent. Anne then remembered that, apparently, he actually was some sort of high-bred lord of noble descent. This, in turn, led to her wondering whether perhaps all elvish lords and princes behaved like this.
Her thoughts were interrupted when a very red-faced, dark-haired man with a strongly receding hairline came to greet and welcome them to 'The Prancing Pony', before introducing himself as 'Theobald Butterbur at your service'.
"Ah, You took over from old Barliman then, I take it," Pippin said at this point, eying the man with curiosity.
"Yes, he is my uncle, sir. He is off to visit our family in Archet at the moment, though. You did not come to meet him, I hope?"
Pippin assured him that this was not the case, before renewing their request for rooms. It turned out that there were three rooms available, including one on the ground floor 'made special for Hobbits', and Butterbur offered to have someone show them right away.
"I will arrange for your supper to be served in a private parlour, if you wish," he said, while glancing at Anne and slightly bowing in her direction. "I'm afraid it's quite hectic down here tonight. Is there something else you might require?"
"Yes, actually," said Legolas.
He had pulled his hood back up right after entering the inn, Anne had noticed, and had remained silent until now. Presumably he did not relish being stared at pointed at, she thought with a covert grin.
"I am looking for someone, who, I was told, is residing in this town," the Elf continued. "The name is Maeren Blackthorn."
"Maeren – yes, of course! You are in luck, my lord. See, over there at the corner table, where most of the little folk is sitting?"
Anne, as well as the other two, turned to look where Butterbur was pointing. In one of the corners near a large fireplace, there were indeed five or six hobbits sitting together at one table. Among them sat a tall, dark and proud-looking young man. Although he was laughing affably at something one of the Hobbits appeared to have said just now, Anne's immediate thought was that he looked terribly haughty and arrogant, the way he was slouching there, winding his long tress of ebony hair around his fingers.
"On my conscience, it is a strange chance that she is here tonight," said Theobald Butterbur. "I haven't seen her in almost two weeks."
Anne, who had been turning back towards the innkeeper, did a double-take, staring at the lanky figure between the Hobbits once more.
She?
She then glanced at Legolas; judging from his narrowed eyes and faintly furrowed brow, he, too, had not been prepared for this particular piece of information. However, he managed to quickly smoothen his features before thanking the landlord.
"Ah, pleasure's all here, my lord. However, perhaps I should mention…" The landlord suddenly looked sheepish. "Well, if you will pardon my saying so, whatever business you may have with Maeren, you would be well-advised not to expect her to be too, er - forthcoming, so to speak. Not that it would be any of my business, sir," he added hurriedly after glancing up at the Elf's face. "Ah, well – if you would excuse me for now - there are things I must see to …"
"Now, Legolas," said Pippin with a grin, once the innkeeper had scuttled off. "It would indeed seem that you are in luck."
the Elf frowned at him. "How so?"
"Well, I do not know this Maeren-person, I must admit. I do, however, know at least two of the lads who are sitting there with her."
Anne thought she saw the Elf's chest move in a very subtle sigh – then he indicated for Pippin to lead the way towards the corner where the group was sitting. Unbidden but intrigued - and for now just glad that she had not yet been introduced to Mr. Butterbur as a possible future employee, Anne followed them.
III III III
:::
Author's Note: Once again – I am so sorry for the really long wait this time (I actually had to reread a lot, so as not to contradict myself on things I wrote in earlier chapters. ô.Ô)
Also, I would like to say a HUGE thanks to those who wrote messages or reviews. You guys are awesome :)
Since you are probably getting tired of me apologising – on a different note: Wow! We have reached Bree! Can't believe it. Only took me about thirteen chapters of increasing length…
I actually have no idea if it was mentioned at any point whether Butterbur has family or not. Still, I think it is safe to assume that he at least had brothers or sisters, hence my choice of re-manning the Pony. There also was no mention about his age to be found, therefore I decided that he would still be alive, forty years after the happenings from LOTR. Killing off Barliman Butterbur was just something I… couldn't do. (I can be mean, but not THAT mean)
Right now I can't think of anything else, but – as you should know by now – any questions, suggestions, or maybe leftover discrepancies you might have spotted - let's have it! ;-)