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Taffy works up the courage to speak to Cir and Cir
Taffy grew restless on the hard wooden chair; no amount of wriggling could make it any more comfortable. His mother and father were busy discussing the next day’s business – lucky for him, really, since their attention was turned away from him. He hopped down from his seat as quietly as he could and made his way toward the table where the Dwarves were sitting.
On his way, he saw a curious sight. A hobbit crawling about on hands and knees looking for something. He had been joined by one of the Big Folk. And even with his help, it seemed that luck eluded the Hobbit. But there was one of the Fair Folk, a pretty lady. Her sharp eyes had found the little trinket and handed it back to the Hobbit. Taffy smiled and nodded his head. He liked things to turn out well.
A glance back at the Dwarves’ table put him back on his little mission. He crept closer, stopping a little ways away. He didn’t want to bother the Dwarves and their company – two Elves. He just wanted to see what interesting things they were doing.
Two of them had flutes, while another seemed to be clearing his throat and humming. Oh! I’ll bet he’s going to sing! Taffy thought to himself. Skirvir did not seem that much into the festivities. Perhaps he was just resting after the grand story he’d told earlier. The Elves, too, had their instruments. Now Taffy had heard that the Fair Folk had wonderful voices. And when they sang it was as if the wind sang through the trees.
Unable to resist, the boy stepped up to the table and looked up at the Elves. The back of his neck grew hot and he could feel a flush creeping up to his cheeks.
‘Pardon me,’ he said, his voice a little croaky as his mouth had suddenly become quite dry. He fixed his eyes on the fair faces of the Elves. ‘Are you going to sing some Elvish songs for us?’
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