[Fairleaf]

Nighttime was the best time to move about she’d found. Most of the two-legged creatures slept then, or if they did chance the darkness their eyes betrayed them and much passed unnoticed as they floundered in shadows.

With those thoughts in mind, Fairleaf had carefully removed the lanterns the Hobbit and Elf had placed in her boughs and set them gently on the ground. She’d wondered if she should take the others from the trees near her, too. Not wanting to be hasty, she’d looked the lanterns over quite carefully. The candles, she noted, were walled away from the limbs they hung on by the little glass panes. Even in a strong wind, the flames from the tapers would not reach the precious leaves and wood. The pale moonlight pushed wanly through the colored glass, throwing ghostly jewels along her leafy arms. Fairleaf smiled, patting the bark of the tall fir next to her. This will look lovely with the candle’s light leaving little gems on you she assured the tree.

Her leaves trailed along the branches of the other trees in this little stand as she moved round the edges of the yard and toward the back of the Inn. She’d been wanting to see the gardens she’d glanced. They were lovely . . . just as she thought. Vegetables in one, and herbs in another, and everywhere little patches of flowery color. And at the edges of the garden area were berry bushes and a strawberry patch, all now bare of fruit, waiting patiently for spring.

A further exploration brought her to the oak tree that stood by stable. Big and strong, it looked, and very old. I remember well a young Ent who’d be quite happy to see you prospering so well she whispered as her leaves rustled over his smooth bark. The stable, of course, was made of good sturdy wood . . . she regretted the trees who fell to the axe for this purpose, but on closer inspection she saw how well it was maintained.

Night lingered on as she moved across the Inn grounds. The scent of night-blooming flowers pulled her across the grass until she chanced on a snug little house built up against the birches and oaks and elms. It stood empty, smelling of paint and new sanded wood. Empty and waiting. She moved about the cottages’ front yard where there were large plantings of flowers of all sorts. Set out for the pleasing combination of their colors and for their scents. Someone who knew these plants well had laid them out and planted them with a deft hand a keen eye. I wonder if this someone is still staying in the Inn? Might be I would like to see what sort of creature this someone is.

Slowly, enjoying the sights and scents of the night, Fairleaf made her way back toward the back of the Inn, her rooty toed feet squishing through the mud. She’d spied a small stand of trees near the far edge of the stable where she could hide during the day. It would afford her a good view of the gardens in the sunlight and leave her a fair view of the front yard where the day’s celebration would take place. She sighed to herself, settling in next to a tall paper birch.

This is a very nice place. I think I should like to stay here for a while . . .