[Envinyatar]

He had risen early that morning and taken the cart northwest to Rushock Bog. The skunk lilies were in bloom and he was determined to catch the first light on them. She had given him a small kit when she left – pen and ink and papers, and told him to capture the Shire for her until she returned. He smiled as he touched the roll of pictures he had done. He had believed, at first, that he did them for her, but she had known he would learn he did them for himself. His fingers lingered on the surface of the paper, its smoothness recalling the feel of his hand against her face. Even now she called him back to himself and to life.

The sight of the great horse standing patiently by the window on the south side of the stable surprised him as he turned up the path to the Inn. Urging Nettle to a quicker pace with the flick of the reins, he squinted in the bright midmorning sun, trying to discern if anyone were taking care of the beast. He could tell, even from this distance, that the horse had been ridden hard. The sweat from its exertions still shone on its flanks, and he could see its nostrils flare, as it inhaled.

‘Where’s Vanwë?’ he said to himself, frowning as he looked toward the stable. ‘Why has she left that horse standing out in the open?’

He drew up near the charger, and it shied away a few steps at the pony’s plodding approach. His frown deepened. ‘That is Eodwine’s horse, if I’m not mistaken. But surely he would not leave his horse untethered and uncared for.’ Derufin climbed slowly from the cart, and supporting himself on his cane, walked slowly to the chestnut. Speaking softly, his hands sure on the reins, he led the horse into the stable and stripped him of his bridle and saddle. He wiped him down, and put him into one of the empty stalls, a nosebag of oats for his morning meal.

‘I’ll be back directly,’ he spoke to the horse, now munching happily on the sweet grains. ‘Just let me find Eodwine, and find what brought him here in such haste.’ Walking to his quarters, he peeked in. Eodwine’s bed was bare of any traveling bags, and indeed the room appeared as unoccupied as it had when Derufin had left that morning.

He looked out the windows on each side of the stable, but still saw no sign of the man. The charger was by this time done with his oats, and he nodded his head up and down vigorously, wanting the bag off. Derufin forked some hay into the manger and taking the bag from the horse, hung it on the nail in the door post.

Locking the stall door behind him as he left, he hobbled into the Inn thinking to find Eodwine there . . .