Birdie finished the grapes (she could never get enough of grapes!) and gestured questioningly at the steaming pitcher of coffee. Gandalf raised a hand in acquiescence and Bird eagerly reached for a mug and the cream pitcher. Then helped herself to the bread and cheese. The wonderful thing about the Halfling custom of mealtimes was that you could sleep as late as you want, and still be assured of a meal upon rising.
As she smiled and nodded thanks to the wizard and his companion, the changling went over in her mind the offer made to her. It seemed either way she might come out ahead. Win and she would regain her hard-earned eleven pennies. Lose and she would at least have a job and a somewhat secure escort on the road. And as for the destination?
The name "Maladil" did not sound very comforting. The twice-told tales around the fire the night of their arrival at the inn suggested a dangerous, but perhaps profitable adventure. Bird wondered just how much she would have to contribute in order to earn eleven silver pennies. Hopefully nothing more than guarding the pack animals and washing up, while more powerful forces did the actual fighting. Birdie had been a camp follower and knew the drill.
The name Rivendell conjured more hopeful images. Bird had always wanted to see Rivendell. As a servant to a mighty wizard, would she be allowed to enter? She believed that the kitchens, stables and back halls of the Elvenhome would be more luxurious than anything else she was used to. It was said that in Rivendell, it never rained, nor got muddy or cold. Clothes always stayed clean, and the beds were always soft. Did Elves hire human servants? Look, Holly! I serve in the House of Elrond, now. Oh, this dress? Given to me by the Lady Arwen, herself, since she had already worn it that morning and was now bored with the color..."
Birdie reluctantly pulled the reins on that particular dream-mare. Now was not the time for such fancies.
But deep in her heart, the real reason she accepted the offer was that she could not forget the crystaline glow that had surrounded Bethberry in the forest, or the blinding white glow revealed around the wizard. Bird looked at the humble, road-worn figures before her and knew that she had been cast into the path of greatness. One had to follow such paths to the end. You turned aside at your peril. Besides, at the end, she could wind up with some good references.
"Very well, good Sir. I'll accept your wager." She sat back with a last mug of coffee while she thought about her first riddle. The image of the fat halfling Podo appeared in her mind, and she smiled. It seemed fitting, since it seemed his dealings had started all the ruckus around here.
Bird led off with the first Riddle:
Though it is not an ox, it has horns;
though it is not an a$$, it has a pack-saddle;
and wherever it goes it leaves silver behind. What is it?
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