[Mithalwen]

A smart little wagon pulled up outside the inn. The liver chestnut cob that drew it raised his head as if he remembered he had been here before, but as he made to go round to the stable yard his driver gave a last gentle pull on the reins before descending from her seat with all the easy elegance of her people.

"Not today, Bracken lad, our journey is not over so soon - but your load will be a little lighter". The pony almost seemed to sigh as his mistress, the elf Mithalwen led him to the water trough and let him drink while she went to the back of the waggon and unloaded a couple of bags which she left at the inn door. She returned to the waggon's front and received carefully a large bundle from her companion, a mortal woman alike in height and build to herself - though the woman's hair was as dark as the elf's was pale. The bundle wriggled and unfolded itself into a small girl wrapped in a dark blue cloak who grizzled into her mother's skirts the second she too had stepped down from the box seat.

"You are sure then? There is an inn at Bree", Mithalwen spoke Sindarin to Elintiriel for the folk of her native Belfalas spoke it as a mother tongue.

"Yes I am sure - it is a cold day's drive away and the sooner this one has a hot bath and a warm bed the sooner she will be well won't you, Annie?". The child's only response was to hide under Elintiriel's cloak. "and it is only for a few days. The place looks homely enough"

"It is, and Mr Boffin will make you welcome - he was very good about the twins" she recalled. They had settled quite well at Mithlond, better than she had expected after the inauspicious start to their visit but she had rather hoped that Elin would have stayed at the havens while she made this trip. Having Angharad around to amuse seemed to have kindled a sense of responsibility in her feckless niece and nephew but Mithalwen was a little uneasy leaving them alone for over a fortnight. Yet the journey had to be made, rendered more important since the shenanigans over the twin's arrival had aborted her previous trading trip to Bree six months ago, and the woman had begged to accompany her. Then Annie had started to get ill and though they camped in the relative comfort of Woody End, Elin had wanted to get a proper roof over her child's head as soon as possible.

Elin coaxed her daughter out from under her cloak to say goodbye to Mithalwen and the elf crouched down to say "namárië" to Angharad and the battered one eared rabbit she clutched to her chest. She smoothed the hair from the child's hot forehead, rose and bade farewell to Elin, noticing how thin she seemed as she embraced her. Perhaps the hobbits would have more success at feeding her up than she had.

As she drove away towards the Brandywine Bridge she wondered if Elin would be there when she returned. She seemed restless, haunted or was it hunted? Mithalwen wondered momentarily what Elin was running from - perhaps the husband was not dead but violent? She dismissed the idea.. Elin had always spoken of him with love and grief. Mithalwen chided herself for the lack of charity. She of all people should understand. Had she not lost those she loved most to Mordor, and had she not run away for a while?

Elin picked up her bags and her daughter's hand and stooping to clear the lowish round doorway she went into the inn, immediately grateful for the warmth of the common room. She was suprised but pleased to see there were other "bigfolk" in the common room but she approached the bar first where a hobbit she took to be the Landlord was serving ale to another and talking about the Cook as far as she could catch -she hadn't spoken much Westron for a while and the accent here was different to in the South as were many words. She remembered Mithalwen had spoken of the Cook disappearing during her stay here and wondered if it could still be a topic of conversation so many months later.

She hesistated not wanting to interrupt but the hobbit turned towards her asking how he could help. Her speech was stilted at first as she started to speak in Westron fearing her accent would not be understood

"Mr Boffin is it? If possible, I would like a room for myself and my daughter for two nights probably three... she is ill - only a cold" she spoke sharper than she meant fearing the landlord would turn her away for bringing contagion into his house and realising this she smiled in an attempt to soften her tone, "but she needs warmth and rest", Angharad raised her arms demanding to be picked up. Elin obliged though the child was really getting too big to be carried and her daughter laid her head against her shoulder, drowsily snuffling like a piglet. Elin's own nose twitched but it was not a sneeze. She had caught the scent of the food being prepared in the kitchen. It took her back instantly to the farmhouse in Edhellond where she had spent her early childhood, the happiest time of her life save the short years of her marriage, and this time the warmth in her smile was spontaeneous. Suddenly and for the first time she could remember, she felt hungry.