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"How about you? What is it like here in this peaceful country? Have you been on any travels?"
“The Shire is a delightful country – rather quiet, perhaps, but very enjoyable,” answered Lily. “But I am not probably the best person to ask about it – I come from Bree, and I have only been here once before. Hobbits in Bree often say that the folk here are strange, but I have not found it to be so. They’re really just the same, though perhaps they are more secluded here. From what I have seen of it, the rest of the Shire is not nearly so… varied in company as here at the Green Dragon. I suppose that answers your other question as well, though Dwarves are well-traveled folk, it seems, and my own journeys – from Bree to here, and I have spent some time in Buckland – undoubtedly seem rather inextensive.” Here she drifted off, for she caught sight of Posco standing up from his table. She felt a moment of panic when it seemed he might be coming her way – where could she go? – and was relieved to see that he had turned towards the inn, then gone inside.
She realized the silence that had settled over the table and felt like kicking herself again. Gróin had turned to follow her gaze, and now looked back at her. “Did you see something?”
Lily shook her head. “Just someone I thought I knew.” Which was true. She had thought that she had known Posco, but apparently he had not been quite how he seemed – surely the Posco that she had known would never have betrayed her in such a way. It still seemed impossible. She noticed that she had fallen silent again, and she smiled weakly. This was not going well. “This place brings back many memories,” she explained rather vaguely. “Even if my travels are few, I do rather enjoy it. It creates for rather memorable experiences, don’t you think? Though perhaps it becomes less exciting when you travel a great deal...?”
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