A short trip back to the Pony. It was becoming a regular thing now, to travel to the Pony. People would contact her there for small odd jobs, in return she would quiz them about various plants they worked with, an exchange of knowledge for manual labor, she was learning a great deal. The days work had been with strawberries, her finger tips stained red, she ordered a small drink. Her tolerance for alcohol was far from at any normal adult level yet, having been denied it at all growing up. The music filling the air was familiar and on turning it was Ryheric standing by the fire with his lute, the cheery sight filling her with joy. Looking around she soon spied Anurania near by listening. Conversation soon errupting over the cat on the nearby chair joined in by a hobbit woman of some years, introducing herself as Kithri.
The noise of the inn grew and conversation became harder, and soon they moved to relocate to the hospitality of Kithri's home. She felt that pangs of homesickness, not for the home she had left, but for the home as it had been when her mother was alive. The chickens in the yard, the goat happily grazing, the general comfortable happy feel of the place. The generous hospitality was everything she had heard of hobbits and more, and soon the tale of Kithri wandering into Mirkwood was underway. The ending though, the pie, they never ended up finding out what happened to the pie. That was one tale she didnt want to tell Lavendara, no one should have their pie deny when they worked so hard on it like that.
