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Willy Burrows could take it no longer. He had been waken up countless times throughout the night by the plethora of folks travelling past his farm on the way to the Green Dragon Inn, just up the road. He had to know what the big fuss was all about, and so, quiet as only a hobbit can be, he opened his window and slipped out, dropping a short way to the ground. He waited a minute to make sure his ma and pa had not heard, and then stole out to the road.
He had never been to the Inn before, though he had gone past in numerous times. His ma was deadset that he was not nearly old enough to be frequenting inns, but at eight years old Willy was fully confident that he was old enough to do as he pleased. Not that he would actually enter the Inn, not at this time of night; his ma would find out as surely as ponies eat hay. Instead, he crept along to the side of the Inn, careful not to be seen, and tried to get a look through the window. Willy found in frustration that his two-foot-four frame was slightly too short. In despair, he cast around for some way to see in. His eyes lit upon a stack of fire wood nearby. He snagged three blocks off the top and stacked them just so underneath the window. He balanced carefully and was able to get his eyes and nose over the window sill.
Willy stifled a delighted shout at the sight as his eyes went wide at what he saw. There were Big Folk in there, as he had heard from his bedroom, and some of them were Elves! For the early hour the Common Room was quite busy, from what he could see. The Inn staff was dashing about, trying to find room for the steady stream of visitors. The only bystanders appeared to be a dog (Willy liked dogs) and a pair of cats. Cats, in Willy's knowledgable opinion, were boring unless they were riled up. Then they were a good bit of fun.
Willy realized that in his excitement he had hoisted himself even higher on the window sill and was now in grave danger of being spotted. He lowered himself back down to his stool of logs, forgetting how precarious his position was. He slipped from the logs with a crash, scraping his elbow and cutting his knee. For a moment, he froze. Surely someone would have heard and would come out to investigate. Then, reguardless of his injuries, Willy darted to his feet and started sprinting pell-mell back towards his farm, though he stayed off the road in fear of being recognized. Unfortunately for him, he was watching backwards and not forwards and he ran smack into a tree just past the stables and landed flat on his back. As he rubbed his throbbing, dizzy head Willy heard a voice, strangely deep yet certainly feminine.
"And where are you so hasty to be going, little one?" Willy looked up, thinking he was hallucinating. The tree was talking to him!
"N-no where," he stuttered. "Wh-wha - who are you?"
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