Against long odds, Willofain was an optimist. Yes, it was true the man was walking away with her chicken dinner, but – four things. He had paid her a compliment “deft hands,” thanked her, and invited her to lunch!
And she was tired of running away. She wanted to run to something, for once.
“Master Stableman! Wait!” she shouted. She dashed to the pump, which the man had just primed, started to work the handle, and paused. Then she got an oaken bucket from under the bench. Only when it was underneath the spout did she let the cool stream of water run over her hands, face, and head. Finishing, she took the bucket and dumped the contents in the watering trough.
“I accept your invitation, Master Stableman,” she told him. “You are very kind to a stranger. Not many people are kind. They are not mean, either. Just – not caring, you know. Are you having ham? Is it a feast day in the Shire? No?”
Willofain took a large bite of the sandwich and chewed busily, drank some water from the stableman’s proffered cup, and continued:
“All the way from my village I had to tag along after others, for I belong to nobody, really. When I got past Bree, there was this man I followed. By his speech and songs he was a foreigner. He went fast and it was hard to keep up. Lucky for me! Because Orcs set upon him and he had to fight them off. Did a good job too, except that one escaped. – Master Stableman? You said I was deft, and I am. I am no stranger to work. I learn quickly. People say I think fast in a tight spot. And animals like me.”
Willofain hesitated, aware that the Stablemaster must have heard such appeals many times before. But it was a time for boldness. “Could I help out in your stables? Or do you know anyone who needs a ‘prentice?”
She held her breath, even forgetting to eat, waiting for the stableman’s answer.
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