Collette wearily branched a hill cursing her most curious luck in a very loud and disgruntled voice.
She was absolutley oblivious to her wherabouts, only knowing that she was wandering about somwhere in Rhovanion.
She had escaped the early morn of her capture, for the orcs that had left a very large abrasion atop her head had been slain by riders unknown.
Luckily, Collette had been stowed amoungst the foul luggage like a tolken from visited lands, for had they seen her dirty with many days of uncleanliness, her face caked with mud and dried blood, she was almost sure she would have been mistaken for an orc as well.
Three days without food, a small amount of water and no sleep made her wish now she had been slain, and just then, she gave up.
There was no hope of finding her friends (who were probably dead she thought) in all of middle earth, and now she felt small.
She curled up in the middle of the meadow and slept near the path, unknowingly easily visible.
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A Hobbit of Bywater
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