[*Varda*]

The sun was high in the sky as Iona finished browsing the stalls, her small basket now full to the brim with various items of food, her red skirt folded over it all. As she left the last of the stalls behind her, her eye was caught by a small man leaning against the wall, seemingly crippled, his foot twisted in a grotesque fashion. His face was lined with weariness, his eyes half closed.

In front of him, laid out neatly, was an assortment of wooden toys. Kneeling down beside the man, Iona picked one up, examining it closely. She held a small wooden whistle in her hand, and turning it over, feeling it with her fingers, she could both feel and see that it was beautiful and exquisitely carved. Pulling a coin from her basket, she held it out to the man. It could come in useful as a present for a friend’s young son back home – until then, she would keep it safe.

The man made no movement, his eyes watching her impassively. Iona took hold of his hand, pressing the coin into it, before slipping the whistle into her basket, and standing up.

“You have a gift,” she said to him. “These toys are beautifully made.” She smiled warmly at him, before walking on. Looking up at the sky, and feeling the midday sun, she gasped.

“Heavens! Where on earth has the time gone? Froma will slaughter me!” she exclaimed with sudden realisation, before bolting back to the Inn in time to serve lunch to those taking a break from their stalls.