[Lalwendë]

Jinniver woke to the rich aroma of roasting lamb drifting up from the common room to her bed chamber. She rolled from the bed, and started to wash and dress in clean clothes for supper. Her clothes were grimy as usual, and she had more dirt than ever down her fingernails. She felt groggy and splashed her eyes with cold water, which made her start. The sun was setting and the fiery glow through the window lit up her loosened hair. She fluffed it out, pulling a face into the looking-glass, and then started to bind it back into tidy braids.

It had been a long day for her, in many ways, and when she had gone back to her bedchamber intending to wash, she had sat for a moment on the soft bed and had fallen asleep. She had met Mr Proudfoot in the morning, and then had been asked to plant a little garden for Derufin's bride to be. Then, of course, she had told the tale of her dark days in Bree. The telling of the tale had not been hard, it was the thought of telling it that was the worst thing, the fear of speaking those words aloud. And yet now she had related what happened all those years ago, she felt unburdened. She was no less angry about what had happened, but the anger did not grip her when she thought of it.

Jinniver felt as though a small part of her that was missing had been somehow returned, yet she felt a little worried that she may have frightened her new acquaintances with her story, even though many of those in The Shire would have much worse to tell; Jinniver was too wrapped in her own concerns to consider this. She grimaced as she thought of the good shire folk thinking her odd.

Once Jinniver had told her tale, she had taken an hour to inspect the garden beds which Derufin wanted planting. She had been surprised to find remnants of the old plants growing there, hidden in the weeds, and she had devised a planting idea which would use the existing plants, as she always thought it a shame to rip up a perfectly good, mature specimen. The soil was rich too, and she could see that there would be little problem in growing almost anything there.

After inspecting the garden and making her delivery to Mr Proudfoot's smial, where she had discovered Mrs Proudfoot was just as round and amiable as her husband, she had written to her father.

"Dear Father, I am well. I am staying at The Green Dragon Inn, a respectable place on the edge of Hobbiton. You might have heard tell of it before. My lodgings are clean and comfortable and the food is good, and the local folks are most friendly, not at all odd. I have been asked if I can plant up a little garden for some nice young folks who are to be wed, and so I must ask you if you can send me a selection of plants. I have written you a list and it is with this message. If you send them tomorrow, as soon as you have read this, then I will get them the day after. Ask young Ashwyn about them, she has these plants are ready in the nursery house. Let's hope you are not still abed when the messenger arrives.

“I will be staying for a few more days here, until I have finished this gardening job. I may stay longer if you will allow it, as I am getting lots of names and addresses for orders. Think of all you can do with what I earn here. That is as good as any of our fireside tales that you might be missing.

While I am away, tell Ashwyn to keep up her book-learning, and make sure to lock the kitchen door up fast. "

Jinniver felt as though she had been away from Bree for much longer than a couple of days, and when she thought of her father she felt nervous, hoping he was happy and safe. Still, she knew he would be glad to have her niece about the place, even if she was a little cheeky. And besides, she had reminded her brother to look in on them at least once a day. Pulling on her long tunic, she sighed, and then the smell of the roasting lamb and the thought of the good company downstairs took her out of the room.