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In hiding . . .
The sound of wheels coming along the gravelly path that ran by the bower startled him. Surely Mistress Bunce would not be coming such a short distance in a cart. He stepped back behind the cover of the trees and leaves, watching warily. In a short time, a cart did pass by, pulled by a single pony. It went on up the path toward the cottage, coming to stop at the steps up to the small verandah.
A tall, slender woman, dark haired, stepped down from the cart and began unloading cloth covered buckets from the back of it. The contents of the buckets was covered by cloth. Lithmîrë frowned, wondering what she was doing.
As he stood there, a familiar voice called out. Mistress Bunce! He hesitated in reply, not wanting to draw the attention of the other woman.
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In the twilight of autumn the ship sailed out of Mithlond,until the seas of the Bent World fell away beneath it,& the winds of the round sky troubled it no more,& borne upon the high airs above the mists of the world it passed into the Ancient West…
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