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The mid afternoon day was fair, and Willow Overhill, a hobbit from the north Shire, sat in the Green Dragon, and waited.
Ando Bracegirdle should've been there by now, he had promised to meet her at the Green Dragon, and yet, he was not there.
"Where is that young fool?!" she asked herself. He had promised... but wait.
She stood up sharply, as something on the other end of the common room caught her eyes. "ANDO!" she shouted, thinking it to be him, then sat down, abashed, as she realized that the halfling on the other side of the room, the blond hobbit, I might note, was not Ando Bracegirdle.
She smiled helplessly at the younger hobbit. "Hello, Anagar Fernfield," she said dryly.
"Hello, Willow," he said. "I've been looking for you."
She stood up sharply, then sat back down. "I know," she said quietly.
He smiled almost evilly, it seemed. "I think we need to talk, daughter."
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