[Fairleaf]

Fairleaf watched with growing interest the encounter between the men and the two Halflings. She’d seen the men creeping to the stable, and heard their rough voices as they spoke to one another and then to the Halfling in the stable . . . Merry, that was his name. There was something about the men that made her bark prickle with alarm. The moonlight and first light of dawn threw their sallow faces into relief . . . and she could not but think they seemed rather cruel in their demeanor . . . Orcish, almost. She worried at the sight of the two Halflings towered over by the thuggish fellows, then flooded with relief as the men backed down. Cowards at heart, like all those whose spirits the shadow has muddied.

The evil men had gone off, driving their poor horses with haste from the Inn. In their wake they’d left something large, standing on four legs in the yard, not too far from her. The Halflings and the woman she’d encountered earlier near the road had stood about admiring whatever the thing was, then left it to stand by itself in the cold morning. Fairleaf had ventured a few steps toward the odd creature when a cat from out the stable came creeping out cautiously, intent on the object, too.

The Entmaiden had gotten close enough to see the thing they men had left behind was made of wood all around – top and legs. And she looked on in horror as the cat stretched itself up in an attempt to sharpen its claws on one of the legs. Only the quick action of Merry and his broom saved the poor creature from a slashing.

Daylight would be flooding the yard soon, she knew. She could feel her leaves tingle as the sunlight crept higher above the edge of the Shire. Fairleaf hurried in her own way to where the creature stood, alone, now. It was indeed wood, lovingly crafted. Beautiful in its own way. Her leafy fingers grazed the shiny surface of its top for a brief moment, before she pulled them back in surprise.

Fairleaf’s eyes glinted gold and green as she placed one hand lightly on the smooth surface. Warm it was . . . and just beneath, a faint and curious hum seemed to ripple . . .

Voices coming up the path to the Inn’s door reminded her it would be best were she back among the safety of the beeches and elms. Hmmm . . . I shall see you later, then . . . you interest me, my friend . . . Never seen one such as you . . . New you are and not among the lists I’ve sung before . . .

Her leafy fingers lingered momentarily on the creature’s top; then she withdrew a short ways away, amid the little stand of copper beech and lacy elms that stood at the far edge of the stable.