It Began with the Woman

I had taken an early ride upon Arhel, out along the tree shadowed lane towards the Hobbit lands. Not that I had intention of going further than the stone bridge over the stream. But I was light of mood, and Arhel was restless, and it seemed a good way to start the day. 

And as I rode on to the East, there came a faint song to my ears, and the sound of a flute. A female voice, sweet and yet not the most skilled. To me it sounded as if she were sad. So I halted on the path, sliding off Arhel's back, and looked around. 

There was no need to be apprehensive. After all, it was not as if a bunch of men would pile out noisily from the undergrowth.

Nay. No Men. It was a woman riding towards Duillond. Reddish-blonde of hair, freckled of face, and with wide doe- like blue eyes, she looked surprised, though not afraid. 

Putting aside her flute, she sang a few more words, then drew her own rather fine mount to a halt.

"You're an elf!" she said, observantly. 

"And you are not," I replied rather firmly.  

She twitched slightly, then bobbed her head to me. "Hildfrith of the Mark" she said. "I am looking for help. I am lost."

If her introduction were truth then most certainly was she a long way from home, let alone lost. 

(With thanks to Estarfin for the picture.)