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Wren sat with her legs crossed before her, a kitten in her hands upon her skirt. The new girl she had met, Mirrelle, also had a baby cat in her lap, and they spoke in hushed voices. Both of them had ceased to cry and Wren found that Mirelle was really quite a nice girl. She wasn't surprised. Most girls were nice, she thought. She didn't notice when Tim stuck his head up above the loft the second time. Nor did she take stock of him as he quietly withdrew again and climbed silently back down the ladder. But, at the bottom, when he slipped abruptly and fell with a crash against something that caused another great bump and smack, both she and Mirrelle were very suddenly aware of his presence.
They both jumped and the kittens extended their claws in fright. "What was that?" Wren cried, pulling her finger away from the kitten's paw. "Ouch. Tim, is that you?"
Tim lay in the straw and dirt of the barn floor, two buckets almost on top of his head, and another at his feet - one which used to hold water, but now didn't because it was all on him. He heard Wren call down to him, but he didn't answer. He kept his mouth firmly shut for fear of crying. Not only had the fall been entirely unexpected, but he had been hurt, and one on top of the other makes even the best boy cry. He had fallen and his chin had been rammed hard against the one of the rungs of the ladder. His jaw snapped shut and his teeth caught the end of his tongue. He could taste blood in his mouth, and there was a lot of it.
"Tim?" Wren called again. She pushed the kitten off her and crawled to the edge of the loft. Peering over, she tried to look down and see, but all that was visible in the bad light was Tim's white shirt, and almost as white face. "What are you doing? Are you alright?"
There was a rather lengthy pause, and then he rasped out a gruff and hoarse - "No."
"What's wrong?" Her voice was sharp with sudden anxiety (she was just a little girl and thought some great damage could have been done). He raised his hand and gingerly touched his face.
"My tongue's nearly bit off and my nose is bleeding." He spoke with difficulty now. It hurt horribly and he blicked back tears of pain.
"Oh, no! You're tongue's gone? Get Cook, Tim! No, you stay there, I'll get her!" She scrambled for the ladder and before he had quite gathered his wits, she reached the ground. He tried to speak, but even if he could have clearly, she wasn't listening. She fled out the door and across the lawn, blindly and without care or notice she ran through the inn yard and the guests standing therein and in through the front door. She barged into the kitchen, but finding no one there, she barged back out and looked about her in desparation. But at that moment, the hobbit she was in search for entered the Common Room from the stair way, followed by an elf. Wren hardly saw the second person as she darted forward.
"Oh, Cook, there's been a horrible accident or something! Tim fell off the ladder to the loft and bit off his tongue! He said he did, and his nose is bleeding to. And he's crying. He didn't say he was, but I know it." How Tim was supposed to have told her his injuries without a tongue, Wren really didn't stop to think about. It was too late to be so technical anyway. She was sure that it was serious and she was equally sure that Cook would agree with her completely.
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