[Folwren]

“Dear me,” Dick said, his hands on his hips as he watched the group of hobbits canter down the road. He shook his head. Bad as it was for business to have half of his customers go riding off, Dick didn’t mind in the least. He dearly hoped that Cook could be found, for no cook would mean no good food, and that would be worse business still.

He turned and re-entered the inn. A quick glance showed him a mostly empty common room. Primrose and Rowan stood on either side of the kitchen door, looking as though the shocking events of the morning had left them rooted in their places for good. Granny Greenhill, who’s sharp wits had guided them most of the way through the chaotic morning, sat near the fire, looking as though she were ready to nod off to sleep after all the exertion she had put out so far that day.

A few odd, tall figures of random elves and men uninterested apparently with the disappearances of innocent hobbit folk occupied the other corners of the room.

“Come, Prim and Rowenna,” Dick said gently. “Let’s get this mess cleared away and this room set back in order.”

The two girls sprang immediately into action and the dishes were cleared away in a twinkling of an eye. Dick took the table cloth to the door to shake out. It was only then that he noticed the tall elf who had been standing in the shadow by the door way for goodness knows how long.

“Oh, excuse me!” Dick cried in greeting. “May I help you?”