As Avarlondwen stepped over the threshold into the common room of the inn, a smile touched her delicate features. It had been a long time since she last been to the Green Dragon, but she could see in a glance that very little had changed. It was almost as though time had stood still in the Shire. She liked that. So much had changed outside the boundaries of the Shire that she found this island of continuity comforting. Laying her hood back on to her shoulders, she looked around for an empty chair. Seeing one next to a very pretty, but young-looking elf, she moved in that direction.
Actually, she was surprised at the number of elves that were present in the inn that morning. Since the beginning of the Fourth Age, so many of her kind had already journeyed to Mithlond and boarded Cirdan’s white ships. She knew that she should go herself, but still felt unable to leave Middle Earth. She hoped to see Eryn Lasgalen, the wood of green leaves, and walk beneath the boughs of its ancient trees at least once more before she departed for the Undying Lands. She sighed. The Shire was a long way from Eryn Lasgalen, or Mirkwood as it was called in darker days. Perhaps one day soon...
She pushed her long, golden hair back with one hand and sat down beside the elven maiden she had noticed earlier. She believed she had heard someone call her Eamane.
“Mae govannen,” she said pleasantly. “My name is Avarlondwen. May I join you?” As she looked at the young elf maiden, she was suddenly struck by the familiarity of her features. Something about her, the way she smiled perhaps, reminded Avarlondwen strangely of her brother. She had not seen him in many, many years, not since she had left the northern woodlands and gone south to live with the elves of the Lothlorien in the beginning of the Third Age. She did not know if her brother even still remained in Middle Earth, but the face of this girl filled her with a sudden longing for family. It had been so long.
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