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Willow
Willow took her water in one hand, and held her fiddle in the other, tightly. She grew very embarrassed as Aman commented that she had heard her playing in the halls.
Aman noticed her seeming displeasure, and continued, "I stepped into the corridor for a moment, that's why I had the pleasure. But listen, that is no ordinary instrument, and you are a fine player. Will you not grace the party with a few tunes later on, Miss...?"
She gazed at Aman, and filled in the blank. "I am Willow Overhill," she answered after a moments pause, for she had noticed that the Innkeeper did not appear to know her name. "I am from the North Moors," she added. "No ordanary fiddle..." Willow perked up, as she sipped at her water. "No, it was passed down from my mother, and her mother before her. It is old, and I am proud to own it. Thank you again for catching it."
She gazed at the violin softly. "You heard me playing, out there. I get nervous when anyone might hear me, but I would be happy to play, if you wish it."
The younger hobbit smiled, and looked up at the Innkeeper, who was so much taller than her. "Yes, I will try to play," she said again. "And thank you for the water, Aman. And who was the dark man you were talking to?" she asked.
She reached up to hold her violin closer, it was precious to her, though some people might not understand the attatchment, beyond the fact that it was old, and had a fine tune; it was also all she had left of her mother, and seemingly now too, her brother, Ando. But that was not the case at the moment. She stroked the fiddle. "The dark man... he looked familiar," she said softly.
Willow looked up again, at the perplexed Innkeeper. "Thank you again for the water," she said. "And I will try to play, if you wish it, Aman."
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