“Glen?”, the small Hobbit lady sitting next to me said.
We were sitting in our comfy armchairs at the crackling fireplace which belonged to our newly rented Hobbit house that was quite large and comfortable even for a tall grown elf like me. It was a cold evening outside the windows but here in front of the fire it was cozy and warm. Spring arrived slowly after a mild winter. I watched the little Hobbit lady. Yes, a young lady she really had become. I knew here since she was a little baby.
I knew her very very well: Floradine, Flora the redhead. My little sister. Adopted sister to be correct but to me she is my sister.
There it was again... that wistfull look in her eyes. She was a Hobbit lady in search of her roots and the yearning to find out about here true origins was growing more and more lately. She was grown up now and she thought about many things. Like who she is and where she came from. What was, what is and what should be. It was good that we moved here. Here into the Shire. With good hope to get answers for my little Flo.
“Yes?”, I said.
“How was it back then in Imladris?” She looked into the fire and the flames were reflected in here eyes.
“Flora, I told you so often about it.”, I answered.
“Yes I know. Tell me again. I want to hear it again.”, she replied and looked me straight in the eyes. How could I ever reject any of her pleas? My life was forever connected to her and her fate.
That was the story which was to be told: The story on how the things are connected. How we both are connected. And why things are as they are today.
And like always she wanted to hear it right from the start. From back then when my family left Imladris to leave Middleearth. She wanted to hear it to relive all the events that happened to us. Because our past was her past as well as she said. And regarding the last thirty years she was right.
Of course she also just found it exciting. When she was a child we often told her what happened back then before fate gifted her to us. She always fevered along with us when things got precarious. And that indeed happened from time to time.
I looked into the fire and watched the licking flames as they danced over the glowing logs. I decided to tell her the story once more. But this time I would reveal a little more to her than she already knew.
“Well”, I began, “it was a little more than thirty years ago…”
