Willow
"Indeed," said Willow, thinking over what Farren had said.
"I didn't find any mythical creatures, but I decided to stay a while. So here I am today, talking to you," finshed Farren, as Willow thought deeply over all that had been said.
Willwo distantly heard the door open as someone came in, but she was deep in thought with what had been told to her. "Then," she began, "it seems that your life was as hard as mine. A life by the seas, and then to traveling. Seemingly though, your's was harder than mine." Willow smiled, and allowed herself time to think over all that had been said. "No, there are no mythical creatures here, unless us hobbits could be called that to you, and your people."
Farren smiled. "No, your folk are not mythical to us." She smiled, and Willow smiled with her.
"I hope that I did not bring up memories that were too painful for you," Willow said softly. "I know how much the past can hurt."
Memories. In the sunlight dancing with her mother, suntouched plants around them. Her father swinging her up into his arms, laughing as she giggled away. At night, her father fiddling as the stars rose up over the black velvet sky...
Willow wiped away the memories. They were too painful for her to think of now, with both of her parents dead from a strange sickness, and her now here, in Hobbiton, among friends. There was no need to go running off, crying, in fear, and from shyness that had set in since they had gone. "Do your memories pain you to recall?" Willow asked softly. "Is there a hollow in your heart, that in the black of night pains you to the bitter core." A bitterness was in the hobbit's voice as she spoke, she knew first hand that of which she spoke.
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