Now Willofain might be a ragged orphan but she had her dignity. “I borrowed the shirt, Master Derufin,” she replied. “I am no thief.” Then as the stablemaster grinned at her and folded his arms, she realized she was, in fact, a failed chicken thief.
“Oh drat,” she said. “A long time ago, when I was helping at another inn, I took a blueberry pie from the windowsill. I had never tasted blueberries, you see, and I was curious. When Master Bruno asked me, I denied it. But he told me to stick out my tongue, and it was blue! So I was fairly caught. He marched me to the woodshed, pausing to pick a switch, and dusted the seat of my breeches properly for stealing and lying.”
She put one hand to her backside in memory of the beating. “Bruno was stern but fair and I promised not to steal or lie again. So far I have kept the promise. I have no wish to be turned away from the Green Dragon. I will be your assistant and do all just as you say, with thanks for the bed and board. But…”
She held up her other, closed, hand. “I found this in the pocket. I have seen such things before – in what remained of my village Go-Fast.”
Willofain opened her hand. The bystanders who had gathered around gasped and recoiled.
It was a loop of twisted metal wire, strung with teeth. Humans’, Dwarves’, Elves’. And Hobbits’, or children’s.
“An Orc-necklace,” someone murmured.
“Whoever owned this shirt had dealings with Orcs, whether friend or foe.” She handed the grisly token to the stablemaster. “Can you see this gets into the proper hands? For maybe the captain of guard will have questions.”
The inn-folk stood talking worriedly. Willofain’s young face was worried too, as she went to see Cook. A dark-haired woman was in the common room, writing, and Willofain wished sadly that she too could read and write. Then she proceeded to the corral and her duties, wondering what would happen next.
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