[Everdawn]

Outside the Inn, another visitor trudged along the dusty little hobbit road. It was a young woman, and she carried with her a small bag and a folio from which the appearance of several pages and pieces of canvas were escaping from their fixtures. Still the woman strode along, oblivious to everything but the colours of the darkening sky. Suddenly she stopped right in the middle of the road outside the Inn and dropped everything she was carrying to shade her face as she looked at an interesting cloud formation, light lightly by the disappearing light.

“Stunning” she muttered to herself as her hazel eyes squinted to seek out more shapes. Then form inside the Inn came two hobbits, one slightly drunk swayed right into the poor girl after tripping on all her scattered belongings. Exasperated, she tore her sun-hat (though it was now dark) form her head revealing a thick mane of burgundy hair. “Soooory’s we are madam.” The hobbit slurred before walking off, The girl watched him for a while before replying “..And a good evening to you fellow…” she was now aware of the presence of a messenger boy waiting on the road in front of her. “Well then?” she asked him bluntly. The messenger just looked at her, his horse grunting impatiently. “Your things are in the way.” He replied coolly. “Who says they are my things? I could just be standing in the road next to them, or minding them, take it how you will.” she though it stupid of him to make assumptions.

“Well, im just guessing, since the residents of the shire are mainly hobbits, and you are at least to tall to be a hobbit… and those bags are too big for a hobbit to manage, im thinking they belong to you.” The messenger frowned. “Well, your horse can jump cant he?” she enquired. “Couldn’t it just simply jump over them?” The messenger dismounted. “Not if I have to deliver this to the Green Dragon.”
“The Green Dragon?” she asked even though she was standing right under the sign. The messenger pointed to the sign above her head. “Oh, I see” she muttered. “The Green Dragon what though?” it puzzling her each second she stared at it. “Inn” the messenger said. “Who is the message for?” she asked, the man grumbled. “A Miss Sírabel Delone.”

The girl jumped in surprise. “That’s me! Unless there is someone here with that very same name!” she though for a second. “Highly unlikely…” The messenger handed her the envelope and rode away. Sírabel hastily picked up her things and walked in the door of the Inn. What met her was astounding, elves, hobbits, dwarves and people. “Well that is in the most, the most interesting thing I have seen or heard since I learned that Strider was a king! Fancy that! Strider, a king! I shan’t believe it until I see it!” she said looking around once more. Finding an empty spot at the bar she sat herself down and tapped her knees until she remembered the letter that was given to her by the messenger.

“Sírabel,
You sister has given birth to a daughter,Though we did not name her Dragon or Entey or any of the other dozens of strange names you suggested, she is called Sírawen after her mother.
Your Brother-in-law
Laon.”
“I thought Entey was a lovely name… a darn sight better than Sírawen ill say!.. Let my painting expedition go well indeed! Ill let them have it this once…” she frowned seriously. She tapped her fingers before feeling thirsty. She leaned over the bar to find whatever hobbit may be servicing it. “Hello down there!” she called but to no avail, the run was empty. “Oh Dear!” she sighed tapping the bench top with her fingernails.