[Envinyatar]

With a nod to Cami, Derufin excused himself from the group and rushed after Halfred as he wove his way down the path to the main road. Had they been looking at the ill- matched pair, they might have seen the Man crouch down and steady the wobbly kneed Hobbit, a searching look on his face as he spoke a few words. And they might have noted how the Hobbit looked blankly at the Man, then smiled and nodded as he patted the pockets of his vest. They would have seen the Man’s eyes light up with anticipation as he took the letter the Hobbit had finally fished so clumsily from his breeches pocket. Seen how he held it gently, his fingers running over the ink that noted his name . . . seen how he tucked it in the waistband of his breeches beneath his tunic, and how every so often his hand brushed past the edges of it.

But none of this was noted by anyone, and so it was a somewhat preoccupied Derufin who was hailed by Aman and who looked bemusedly at her as she made her odd request.

‘Clothes, you say?’ Derufin scratched his head and said he supposed he could offer the fellow a pair of breeches and a tunic. ‘I don’t suppose you could tell me if the man is anywhere near my height and size?’ Aman stepped back and eyeballed the stabler, making him turn in place. She threw up her hands at first, then her face brightened. ‘He had a serviceable belt, I think, and he can always roll the cuffs on the shirt and breeches if need be.’

‘Let me just look, then. I’ll bring them round this evening, before supper. What was his name?’

A look of mild amusement crept on his face as he heard her tone of voice. ‘Beren,’ she said, rolling the sound of it about in her mouth, savoring the taste of the syllables. ‘Beren,’ she said firmly, then, looking up at Derufin’s face, a look of defiance set behind her eyes.

He put his outspread hands toward her as he backed away, toward the stable, an ill-concealed grin on his face. ‘Beren, it is then, m’lady.’ He turned and made to go in to his quarters, but his mischievous side surfaced and he turned back to her with a wink. ‘Oh, and if it just so happen you should see said Beren before I do, just tell him Derufin will see to him this evening . . . and take his measure, so to speak . . .’

Not waiting for her reply, Derufin hurried off to the stable . . . laughing as he heard her mutter an epithet of the Mark to his retreating form.

‘Cheeky ba . . .’

[ July 16, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]