Mabely had finished work at her usual hour. The kitchen was tidied with everything in its place. The cupboard tops, table and floor sparkled from being mopped. The supper of pork pie and pickles was set out under a glass covering, and the mugs were set out ready for tea, whenever Octavia, her employer, wished.
Taking off her yellow apron, she hung it up in the wall closet, and took out her woolen rust coloured cloak, ready for her walk home. Although it was still summer, the weather had been cooling in recent days, and she knew the first touches of golden autumn could not be far away. No need for a hat or scarf yet, but a cloak was wise.
Popping her head out the door, Mabely could see some heavy grey clouds lumbering eastwards, towards her home. There would be rain in Michal Delving soon. She thought a few moments, then decided to walk westwards a little, to be out in the forest near Foxden Heath, and stretch her legs before heading to her home.
"I'm off, Mistress Octavia," she announced as she walked to the main living room. White haired Octavia was sitting comfortably, with a small rug over her knees, her grey cat curled up on her lap, and a thick book on 'History of the Baranduin' in her hand.
"Alright, Mabely, dear. Take care walking home, and I will see you in the morning."
Mabely rather liked her employer. Octavia was somewhat eccentric for a Hobbit, she would think nothing of taking a walking stick and patroling the bounds, and knocking some sense into any overly inebriated lads. She approved of Mabely's bow, though said such a weapon was for goblins and orcs and wolves. One of her ancestors had fought at Fornost, she was fond of saying, and a bow in the hands of a skilled Hobbit could be a very dangerous thing. She was full of tales of the 'old days', and could easily set Mabely a-dreaming.
But having made her 'farewell', Mabely headed for the front door, swung her quiver onto he back and her bow over her shoulder, and was away in her own world.
The Lass was happiest out in nature. Like many of her folk she was keen of ear and eye. She looked for animals and birds and insects, for moss and lichen on trees. She noticed and smiled and enjoyed the multitude of life she found so nearby. It made her heart sing. Not that such was difficult. She looked for the good in all things.
The walk up the lane to the heath was easy enough, she even skipped along some of the journey as if she were still in her tweens. She passed Bob Brackenfoot, and bid him a 'Good evening' and then entered the trees, and pretended they were full of Elves, sing as they travelled West to the sea.
She had seen a procession twice. Magic it was! Such beautiful beings, yet she couldn't quite decide if they were happy or sad to be departing? She had hidden in a bush, and they had passed by without a word. But one or two had smiled slightly at that bush, so she believed they had known she was there. She always hoped to see them again.
The sun was begining to descend as she reached the last outcrop of trees before the Lake, and there she stopped fast. There was a group of folk standing by the lake, talking in low voices, though not hushed ones. They were not expecting anyone else to be around. Neither were they Elves.
Mabely dropped to the ground. 'Silent as a mouse now,' she thought.
The moon over the forest was a waning crescent, a moon that brough an end to things, a decline, a loss. She had no intention of being lost with them around, or having any sort of 'ending'.
She counted. Twenty two of them, each with their own mount, looking packed and provisioned for travel. They were too far away to make out clearly what they were saying, but there seemed to be something about spliting into three groups, and some of the men mounted up immediately. The others were arguing.
There was something about them that didn't look right. They didn't look like kindly sort, nor like Hunters out after boar and deer. They looked rough.
Mabely shivered. Then she did the best thing she could. Staying low, she wriggled back into the cover of the trees, then stood up and ran as fast as her legs would carry her to Little Delving. Hobbits could pass undetected to most if they wished. Mabely very much wished for that. She intended to report what she had seen to the Bounders as soon as she could. There was little good she could see about any in that particular gathering.
But it was only as she actually caught up with one of the Bounders that the full force of what she had seen hit her. Twenty two Men...and two Hobbits, both gaged, and bound with ropes.
