Willow
Willow watched as a young hobbit, a rather short one at that, walked into the Green Dragon. She reminded her of herself almost of her, the first time she had came in, and tried to play her fiddle.
The young lass stood in the middle of the room for a moment, looking quite clueless, and then she went and sat down at the bar.
Willow thought for a while. She knew what it was like to be new; to just sit there. And now she was more confident, though still quite shy. She breathed out deeply, and resolved to go and talk to this newcomer.
She stood up, and tucked her fiddle under her arm; abandoning her chair to cross the room.
Willow Overhill walked over; across the common room, and went over to the new hobbit girl. No one really seemed to notice her; she blended in so well.
She wanted to go and talk to the girl; her mind screamed out that she needed a friend, but her feet had other ideas. She tripped over a chair leg, just barely catching her violin as it fell, and taking the brunt of the collapse herself.
Willow collected herself, and blushed, embarrased, as usual. After completely collecting herself well enough, she walked over to the newcomer.
"Hullo," she said shyly. "I'm Willow Overhill. What's your name?" She smiled weakly, for she was shy for a hobbit, and disliked talking to strangers, though she had began to warm up to the Green Dragon. And yet she so wanted a friend.
She tucked her fiddle under her arm; held it closer, and waited for a response from the fellow hobbit girl, hoping that she wouldn't be too shy.
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