The evening was settling in over the quiet little neighborhood within Bree-town. Cricket-song rose up on all sides as the sun lingered lazily above the western horizon, casting its clear, golden rays. A humble shadow appeared first on the lane heading towards the cottage, followed by the small figure of a young woman in a simple green work dress, her cloak slung over her arm, as she'd grown warm on the walk home.
Her eyes were downcast with weariness as she climbed the slope to the cottage. She withdrew a key, and was nearly upon the doorstep before something bright and surprising caught her eye.
Flowers.
She stared at the odd decoration as if she were looking upon something alien. After a moment of stunned stillness, she turned around, glancing down the hill, over the cobblestone street. No one lurked about, not obviously at least. She looked back at the circlet hanging on her knob. Who would...?
A hesitant hand reached to lift the carefully-strung ring of blossoms, a bemused smile touching her lips. Was it a bashful admirer who'd gotten the wrong house? Perhaps some girl had lived here before, and someone had fancied her? Bryn had only been staying there for a short time, after all.
The circlet of flowers dangled from her hand, swaying softly in the evening breeze. She knew not what she would do with it, but it was far too beautiful, too intriguing, to discard. Still smiling, she passed into the house, closing the door.
