Willofain tore through the yard and stables like a youngster at the Dale toy market, exploring. She found some rooms that looked lived-in. “Derufin’s” she thought, and passed them by. But the next room did not look so private. Behind the door she found a set of clothes hanging on a peg. They could have belonged to any tall person, either man or woman.
“Good!” she thought, and set to work. In no time she had stripped off her woolen tunic and breeches and put on the unknown person’s shirt. It hung halfway to her knees like her tunic, and she belted it with the piece of rope she used. Then she hurried to the stable yard, found the oaken bucket, and filled it with clean water from the pump.
“Wash day!” Willofain said to the inn-folk who had finished their lunches and were walking about the yard or heading for the town road. Some waved cheerfully, and others seemed too sunk in their thoughts to notice.
Soon the homespun garments were hanging in the sun to dry and Willofain put her mind to the next project. She wanted mightily to hear talk of orcs, goblins, or any sort of ruffians and saw that the inn suited her purpose perfectly. And if she learned nothing in the common room tonight – after she was cleaned up a bit and ready to socialize – then she would start looking the town over for the man she had followed from Bree. The one who held his own against the orcs.
Musing over this thought, Willofain put her hand into the pocket of the shirt she had borrowed. What was this? Frowning she pulled forth an object. Her blue eyes widened.
“I had better tell Derufin,” Willofain said to herself. “Or even the Innkeeper herself! Whose shirt can this be?” And she headed for the inn's back door.
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