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Rhoslyn tapped her fingers against her tankard, following the notes of a song she was currently working on. She had finished the lyrics already, but she could not decide on a tune quite yet. It was more mellow than what she usually composed, which was likely why she was having so much trouble with it, she supposed. It would come to her in good time, she told herself.
She grabbed the tankard with both hands and took a long swing of her ale. Over the rim of the cup, she caught sight of the barkeep eyeing her from across the way. Setting her ale down, Rhoslyn leaned forward against the bar and said, "It is awfully rude to stare, you know."
The man coughed, looking away. "My apologies, I meant no offense. I am simply... confused, is all."
"Confused? About what?"
His gaze swept over her. "You are no child," he remarked.
"Astute observation, my friend!" Rhoslyn shifted her legs to sit atop them on the stool. "I am a Hobbit, a halfling, if you will. But more specifically, I am a River Hobbit. We are much taller than our kin beyond the mountains."
"I see..." The man placed a filled pint in front of one of the other patrons before stepping over to stand before Rhoslyn. "Where are you from, friend?"
"Now, would that I could tell you," she replied, "but my people are not fond of revealing where we hail from. We like to keep our homes secret! Prevents big folk from traipsing all over our land. I do not mean to offend, of course."
"Of course." The man smiled. "We must do what we can to protect our families. More ale?"
"Yes, please!"
Rhoslyn waited while the barkeep took her tankard and went to fill it from one of the barrels. She drummed her fingers against the counter, once again trying to put together notes that did not wish to cooperate. The tavern door swung open and shut, but Rhoslyn did not turn, figuring just another man was coming in for a drink. Her fingers continued tapping, slowing down for a moment before speeding up. Perhaps that was it. The lyrics could be solemn, but the beat could be more alike to what she was used to.
A large figure appeared on her right, and Rhoslyn tilted her head to see a woman thrice her size place a note on the bar top. The man behind the counter walked over — sliding Rhoslyn's drink to her — and grabbed the piece of paper. He read it over, nodded, then fished out a bag from his apron. The woman took it gratefully, and Rhoslyn heard the distinct sound of coins clinking together. The woman sat and leaned a mighty axe beside her.
"My, that is a large axe," Rhoslyn commented.
The woman looked at her and grinned. "It is likely taller than you."
"Of this I have no doubt!"
The woman shifted to face Rhoslyn better and accepted the drink that the barkeep offered her. "What is your name, my small friend?" she asked.
"Rhoslyn Merwin, pleasure to meet you!" She held out her hand. "And you are?"
"Isthena. Just Isthena." She grasped Rhoslyn's hand in her much, much larger one and shook it gently. "I must say, I never expected to see a River Hobbit this far south."
Rhoslyn leaned forward, balancing precariously on her seat, as she said, "You know of my kind?"
"Of course, for I grew up just down the river from you."
Rhoslyn gasped softly. It made sense now — Isthena's stature, her physique, her weapon. No normal woman had such distinguishable traits. "You are one of Beorn's folk," Rhoslyn said.
"Shh." Isthena brought her finger to her lips and winked.
"Ah, right, of course." Rhoslyn glanced around before leaning even further in. Isthena placed her hand on the back of Rhoslyn's stool to keep it from tipping, and the Hobbit felt immensely grateful for that. "Is it true that you can change your shape into a bear?" she whispered. Isthena nodded. "Incredible." She scrambled back in her seat and dug into one of the deep pockets of her dress. Out she pulled a small notebook and pencil, flipping to a blank page and scribbling down words.
"What are you doing?" Isthena asked.
"Inspiration has struck for a new song, and if I do not write it down now, I am certain to forget it," Rhoslyn explained. She sat there for a few moments, jotting down the lyrics as they came to her while Isthena watched curiously.
She ended up with a good quarter of the song and smiled victoriously down at the paper.
"May I see?" Isthena wondered. Rhoslyn slid the notebook over and nervously twisted her pencil while Isthena read her work. She did not easily get nervous, especially since she often performed in front of crowds. But there was something different about sharing the very beginnings of her song writing. It was her innermost thoughts being poured onto paper, and it felt like exposing her very soul for all to see.
Isthena gently pushed the notebook back. "I only have one complaint," she said, and Rhoslyn's stomach dropped. "Bears don't just eat honey. We eat berries, too. And fish, and deer, and if we are desperate, we'll eat insects. Very crunchy."
Rhoslyn opened her mouth, then burst out giggling. Isthena joined in the laughter. They knocked their drinks together, sloshing some of the liquid over the rims, and drank merrily together.
They shared stories for a long while, spoke of their homes along the Anduin, and bonded over their travels continuing south, deeper into Rohan. Rhoslyn presented her troublesome song while Isthena divulged her hobby of embroidery, though she'd had little opportunities to make anything of late. Rhoslyn vowed to rectify that if the two of them were to stick together, which was seeming more and more likely as their conversation flowed. Rhoslyn would certainly feel safer if she were to travel with someone like Isthena.
The barkeep wandered back over to them after a time and rested his forearms against the counter. "Isthena," he said, and the woman turned to face him, "how much longer are you planning to stay in town?"
"I was likely going to leave in the morning. Why? Do you have a new job for me?" Isthena asked.
"Of a sort." He reached into his apron and pulled out a letter. "This needs to go to Erkengar in Cliving. I will pay you before you leave, and Erkengar is likely to have tasks of his own that he will pay you to do once you get to Cliving."
"What is it about?" Isthena grabbed the letter.
"That is not a part of the deal."
Isthena raised an eyebrow and slowly set the letter down. "Either you tell me what it is I am delivering, or you will find someone else to take this message," she declared, her voice suddenly low. Rhoslyn sipped on her ale and glanced between the two. "If this is innocent, then you should have no worries telling me. But if it is... less than innocent, then I will not be your accomplice."
The man swallowed nervously. Anyone would be smart to be intimated by the woman, and while Rhoslyn did not know if this man was aware of Isthena's shape-changing, it would certainly make her even more menacing. One should not challenge the temper of a bear.
The barkeep eventually sighed and replied, "Erkengar is my brother, and we are having a dispute about inheritance. This letter is simply telling him to... travel here so we can settle this face-to-face, or I will collect it all and he will get nothing."
"Hmph." Isthena narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. "Very well. I will take your letter." She grabbed the paper and slipped it into a pouch on her belt.
"Much thanks," the man said before dropping some more coins into Isthena's waiting hand. He left again after that.
"Cliving, huh?" Rhoslyn remarked. "I should very much like to see it!"
A smile grew on Isthena's face. "So you do wish to travel together?"
"Well, of course! It would be rather silly, would it not, if we were to part ways? We are heading in the same direction, and it is mighty good to have company on the road. There is also much I would like to learn about you and your kin, for how else will I finish my song?"
"Then, my small friend, let us drink to the many adventures that lie ahead for us!"
They departed at dawn with Rhoslyn sat on Isthena's shoulders, singing one of her older songs joyously. Both were undeniably in for a myriad of adventures.