Shire

Shire life was good, Everardo was comfortable and well fed. Folk were friendly on the banks of the Brandywine in the Marish and Buckland to. The ferry was a centre of activity, people produce and of course gossip.

Not many big things ever happened but there were plenty of little things to chatter about and maybe that was it.  He’d decided to volunteer as a Bounder to expand his horizons... to find another subject to talk about, something really interesting ideally!

The sun was shining on the horizon heralding the new day. Just as the new day had just begun so had the new year not that long ago. Filled with the joy of the yuletide, Galmaxthalion once again took off to the wild. The Chetwood was stirring in the morning, the forest-life welcoming the increasing hours of sunlight as the year rolled past the winter solstice towards the still distant spring. Breathing in the cold morning air Galmaxthalion shared some of his rations with his steed, Lossenor, before pulling out his lórien clarinet.

Kitten slept long that morning, and from the position of the sun the traveler surmised it was nearing high noon. He cradled a handful of eggs he had pilfered from the nearby farm's chicken coop in his lap for some time before he was finally tempted to eat one himself.

Close to midnight it was when the traveler ambled his way to the camp Kitten made beneath an old, wide oak tree outside Tuckborough. Fully cloaked, his heavy hood fallen over his dusky face, he was invisible on his approach to the meager campfire she built; suddenly he appeared out of the gloom in one step within the gentle golden ring of fire-light. She flashed him a quick smile, but then the expression faded and her demeanor was disheartened.

They woke with the rise of the sun to a clear and warm morning, the remains of their campfire now blackened ash. Kitten believed that they stood a better chance of finding a helpful hobbit to borrow from the library on their behalf if they separated, and so the traveler gathered up his rucksack and set off in the opposite direction of the one she chose for herself.

They stood and gathered up their belongings after the rain had abated enough to make travel possible again. Flicking away the tip of his finished smoke, the traveler asked Kitten where their next destination was. His tone was one of genuine nonchalance; as long as the road was open and free, he would wander wherever it carried him.

The traveler awoke to a cold shower soaking his body yet again. Did this land ever go more than a few days without damnable rain? He sputtered, wiped a hand across his eyes and rolled to his side to seek his torn cloak. It was not where he remembered leaving it. Muttering quiet oaths as he pulled himself up on his elbow, he scanned the sopping ground around him, still not finding it. His eyes landed on Kitten stoking a very weak fire, still oddly burning despite the downpour.