[Undómë]

‘Well now,’ returned Goody, turning just enough to see his profile as the Halfling stared into the fire. The light bathed his face, highlighting the small creases at the corners of his eyes. They would be from laughter, she thought, and not the marks of one who is too serious. Yet here he is, his brow furrowed with worry; his eyes narrowed as he considered the flames.

‘I think you be wanting a simple answer, Master Willem.’ She poked at the Yule log, making the sparks fly up. ‘And I wonder, too, which Green Man you speak of – the one who walks the forest or this Inn which bears his name. Which one, Willem?’

‘I could say “yes”. The Green Man will hold against the shadow.’ She saw the hope flare up in his eyes as she spoke. ‘The Inn will stand and all within will be safe.’

‘But, then I could say “no”. The Green Man waxes and wanes; it is his nature. Light and dark push against one another; death pushes against life; old makes way for new, and in turn new turns old and so it goes.’ She smiled at him, giving his upturned face a long, considering look.

‘You’ll be safe, Willem,’ she said quietly to him, her hand laid reassuringly on his arm. ‘You stay here . . . with Old Goody.’ She nodded at the others in the room. ‘Let them do what they need to be doing and we’ll do ours. The fire must be fed, the log kept burning.’