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Old 07-20-2005, 11:35 AM   #2125
Folwren
Messenger of Hope
 
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Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
Posts: 5,122
Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Wren, in the kitchen, stepped back away from the stove, wiping her hands on her apron as Ginger offered to do her hair. She smiled shyly and nodded.

“I’d like that,” she said quietly. “Should we take off the aprons first?”

Ginger agreed with one of her many smiles and they took off the aprons and hung them up. Ginger fetched the brush, comb, and ribbons and sat Wren down in one of the kitchen chairs and commenced to brush out her hair.

There were many tangles and for some time, the Hobbit worked in silence. Wren sat as still as she could, swaying back when the brush caught on a particularly hard knot, and going forward again when her hair was released. She showed no sign of any pain, for she felt little - Ginger was gentle.

“I like you,” the little girl said after many minutes of silence. “You’re nice. I hope Tim says we can stay. We haven’t met anyone like you on the road. Most people didn’t like people from outside the Shire, you know. One person let us sleep in their barn once and in the morning when some eggs were missing, he accused Tim of stealing them and didn’t let us stay for breakfast even. But it wasn’t Tim,” she said with a slight sigh. Her hand picked absently at a thread in her dress as she stared out the kitchen door and continued talking. “It was one of their dogs. I saw him get into the nests. But the fellow was very mean to Tim and I think Tim would have gotten mad back if he had any chance of convincing him that he hadn’t done it.” Gingner was braiding her hair now and Wren turned her head slightly and changed the subject abruptly. “Can you use the blue ribbon? That’s my favorite color.”

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Walking across the yard again, Aman asked Tim how old he and his sister was. “I’m almost eleven,” Tim said, looking up at her briefly. “And she’s eight and a half.” He stopped and gnawed on his lip thoughtfully for a brief moment and went on. “I know we’re kinda little and we may not look like we can do much, but we’re not weak, and neither of us are dull.”

Aman smiled kindly, and shook her head. “No, I’m sure you’re not,” she half murmured.
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