[Imladris]

Gorby

I sighed wearily and rubbed my eyes and looked around. The men were, well, quite anti-social and, well, sort of austere in my ‘umble opinion. That elf Lumiel, I believe, had gotten a lively dance goin’ and I, for the life o’ me, couldn’t figure out how she had done it. I mean, she was an elf, for pete’s sakes! The jig was rather jolly and I couldn’t say no to such o’ thing at that.

Winking at Anson, I pushed my chair back with a resounding scrape and kept a sharp look out for a pretty lass. There was one: a cute little thing with golden bouncy curls and soft blue eyes. My heart fluttered and I looked again: she was so beautiful: her hair was like straw drying in a bright summer sun.

Making my way to her, wading through the swirling people, I finally found myself beside the lass. Leaning against the wall, her cheeks had a slight flush to them and lashes curled delicately above her river like eyes, she was clicking her fingers softly to the beat and her ruby lips were curled into a slight smile in her which her pearly whites glistened prettily. “Hello, miss,” I said nervously. “My name is Gorby Brandybuck,” I said as casually as I could. “Yours?”

“That’s not your real name,” she said, her smiling curving until it was just slightly flirtatious.

“Uh,” I said stumbling. Most people called me Gorby, but that was only a nickname. “Oh, the real name is Gorbilac, but most people call me Gorby or Orb, depending on how high I rate in their esteem,” I said with some chagrin. But she wanted to know, so I supposed that she might as well have all of it.

Tilting her head, she said, “Sapphire Greenfield.” She curtsied and winked at me.

As I bowed, I said, “Would you like to dance, m’lady?”

Giggling slightly, she took my hand (her fingers were delightfully soft and velvety) and nodded her assent. Putting my hand on her waist, we danced merrily together. We swirled and stumbled over each other’s feet. As I looked into her eyes and saw her laugh, it was as if she was just full of joy and happy to be just alive. I couldn’t imagine that anything could dampen her spirits. Finally, we flopped wearily down upon a bench and I ordered her ourselves an ail. “Well, Fire,” I said, coining a nickname for her, “thank ye for the dance -- dances.”

She tittered quietly and took a sip, the frothing foam sticking like cream upon a newly filled milk pan to her lips. Delicately licking it off, she said, “So, Gorby, what brings a Brandybuck to Bree?”

“I’m going on a search party to rescue a man from Rohan,” I said.

She arched her eyebrows prettily and said, “Rohan?”

“Yes,” I said nodding.

“Saphy! Saphy!” a stout hobbit with white hair cried out! “Best be getting home now!”

Sapphire smiled sadly and said, “I best go. I live at the Greenfield Bakeries,” she added as she disappeared.

I watched her leave sadly and found that Anson had come to sit with me. “Somebody likes somebody,” he said slyly, taking a sip.

“Oh, be quiet!” I said good naturedly. “I say, Anson, do you really want to go on this trip?”

He shrugged and said, “I’m just glad I’m going with you.”

I looked at him sharply and said, “You didn’t have your father’s permission to go, did you?” I scrutinized him carefully: no response. “You did this for me, didn’t you?” I said finally, feeling slightly guilty. Anson wasn’t exactly one to go on adventures, from what I understood, and he loved his siblings so much: I wondered how he had managed to tear himself apart from them. And had the sweet hobbit hole that he loved so much. And now he’d be trudging against the cold, probably tripping over every stone and twig on the ground, getting his clothes mussed and not being able to wash his hair. He nodded to my question and I said, “Thank you, Anson.”