The guards of the Bree-town west-gate had grown familiar with the sight of the young woman in the deep blue hooded robe, and with only a nod and a quick wave, she was permitted through. Into the bustling hubbub of the village's cobblestone street, filled with vendors and merchants, setting up their tables and stalls in the early morning light of another summer's day.
She walked with her head faintly bowed, not in a fearful fashion, but rather a deft avoidance of eye contact, with her gaze set firmly on the stones a pace or two ahead of herself. Weaving along, around those who stood in her way, she made her path towards the Prancing Pony inn.
The ruckus of the town was a harsh, dull cacophony in her ears, for her thoughts were far away from her surroundings, and she wished only to slip into her room, close the door, and think.
He had told her his true name. Who he really was. And though it was a surprise in one way, she couldn't understand why it was not at all surprising in another. There was a familiarity there that didn't make sense. A feeling of a missing puzzle piece being laid into place. She needed to be alone. To ponder it all.
Their time beside the stream had stretched through the night, from sunset until sunrise. How easily the hours passed, both in comfortable silence, and stretches of quiet, content conversation. He seemed easier tonight, somehow. He had smiled more readily. Talked more freely. It wasn't so difficult to meet his eyes as it had been. The urge to look away, to bow her head, slowly eroding, the longer she spent around him.
What sort of friendship was this? Bemusing, strange, puzzling. She had cracked the door for this person. This one person. Thinking perhaps, it would be safe. To let just one person in.
Just one.
Her feet hurried up the steps of the old inn. She threw open the door and hastened along the corridor, hardly noticing the guests and serving-hobbits passing by. Arriving at her room, she shut the door quickly and firmly. Her hands lifted to brush her hood back onto her shoulders as she moved to the bed and sat down.
She stared down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. He had told her so much, and she, in turn, had spoken of things she'd sworn never to tell anyone. How much more would he learn?
Her cheeks felt hot as she smoothed her palms over them. A tender moment had occurred, just before he suddenly turned and rushed away from her, leaving her bewildered and flustered. She thought of how swiftly she could gather her belongings and slip away. Leave him a note, perhaps, apologizing.
Her head shook slowly back and forth, as if she were arguing with herself. There would be no leaving. For beneath the confusion, the doubt, and the fear, another feeling had been awakened. A spark, sputtering to life, growing into a flame that she did not expect, and indeed, could not explain. Her path, always so twisted and aimless, now seemed mysteriously illuminated. Not completely. Just enough to perhaps take another step...
...if she could find the courage.
