The first glimmer of boldness and recklessness flickered into Posco's eyes and shone there with a fervor. It came from one thing... the recklessness he felt when concerned with riding. Back in his hometown in Buckland the young lads about his age were frequently holding races and then was the time Posco become assertive and fierce. Nothing daunted him then, but all caution was thrown to the wind to be tossed amid the tree that was the finish line.
"Ride!" he repeated, chuckling in delight. "I love to ride, Miss Lily. My pony is the fastest in Buckland, or so I believe." He sat back and relived the thrills of racing, heard the pounding of hoofs on the worn dirt roads, the sight of the dust flying up and the flared nostrils of the ponies, and the cries of encouragement from the riders to their horses. Closer and closer to the finish line, and then he would cross first. Always first.... Almost always.
The realization that he had often fallen into a lower place brought recollection to his mind that he was talking with a pretty young hobbit lass he didn't know very well and that he had been bolder than ever, and urging to ask her a question, nay, make a request of her, embarrassed him still. There was nothing for it. He'd be tormented for the rest of his life if he didn't. He leaned slightly forward so she could still hear him if he spoke low. He didn't wish anyone else to hear. "Miss Lily?" he said, his voice once again shy and timid. "If you don't mind... er... oh, would you please go out riding with me some time?"
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