[littlemanpoet]

Uien had been busy at her cutting, sitting near the garden, when the green door opened. She looked up absently, but her glance stayed. Out walked an Elf. He looked familiar. Was he also from Lorien? He seemed occupied with his thoughts, and they were closed; Uien forced herself not to probe his mind, not until and unless they made acquaintance. He walked around the Inn and out of sight.

Uien looked to her carving; nothing as yet could be seen clearly from the shape slowly forming beneath her knife. It was small and without sharp edges, whatever it was.

She heard footsteps come from the fields behind the Inn, and stop to her side, casting a short shadow toward the undying lands, where she had chosen never to go. She looked up. It was Falowik, of course.

"How was your walk?" she asked in a calmed voice.

Falowik smiled, showing his relief at the peace he saw in her face. "Good. I needed it. How is Kírsul?"

"He is well, and would be off and away. He needs to run in the open. Not just in this fenced pasture of the Inn."

"I know," Falowik said, and crouched on the balls of his feet by her. "What are you carving?"

Uien looked down at her work. "I do not know .... yet. She pointed at the green door with her knife. "I saw an Elven man come out of that green door. He may be from Lorien. He looked familiar."

Falowik's face was unreadable. Uien chose not to probe his thought. He said, "So many Elves in the Shire. I wonder what the Hobbits think."

Uien smiled. "I do not know. Most likely they think it too out of the ordinary, and wish us gone."

Falowik smirked, then looked carefully into her grey eyes. "Do you know what was ailing you?"

"No, but I think that maybe this carving may reveal that which lies within my heart."

"I am eager to see what it is."

"While I carve, maybe you could ride Kírsul in the pasture."

"I shall do that." He smiled for her once more, rose, and walked toward the stables.