[Eowyn Skywalker]

"I'm from the North Moors," Willow replied, an easy answer to an easy question. "I am pleased to meet you, Farren. A traveler. There are many of your type through here now." She smiled, the easy smile lighting her face, when she was friendly, indeed, she could be a fair person.

There was a wistful smile on Willow's face as she continued: "I don't travel much, yes, indeed, I have seen much of the Shire, but no where else. I am but a Hobbit, one of the Little Folk, as some would say. And even now, we still have our own world here, it's so different from everywhere else, or so I hear tell."

She spoke distantly, remembering things she had heard in the past, years ago. "When I was little," she began, "my father, my true father-- he died when I was still a tween-- he used to tell tales. He was a traveler, you see, a Brandybuck. My mother was from the North parts, which is where I grew up. But my father, before he married my mother, he used to travel a bit, even to Bree, and he would tell me things that he had seen in those far places." There was thrill in her eyes as she spoke of this, even though, to remember her parents, it hurt.

"My father brought my fiddle back from Bree," she said softly. "And when he died, before, that is, he gave it to my mother, and she to me. They were both very sick, I don't remember it well. But afterwards, when I was old enough, I chose to see the Shire, and then remained her, in Hobbiton afterwards. I've never traveled beyond Crickhollow."

There was a shining light in her eyes as she turned to Farren. "But tell me, what is it like to travel, to have no place to truly call home? I've always dreamed of such things, but what's a little Hobbit to do? I am happy here in Hobbiton now, but I still would love to hear of your travels!"

Willow smiled, and with her eagerness, showed her for the younger spirit that she had. Indeed, she was one of questions, once she had something to talk about, and Farren was someone to talk to. So she talked.