Rose Cotton

Placing a heavy ceramic pitcher of cider on the wooden table, Rosie wipes her hands on her apron and tucks a loose golden-brown curl behind her ear. There now, you look like you've walked all the way from Bree and back again without a single snack! You’ve got that dusty look about your cloak that tells me you’ve been up to no good—or perhaps far too much good for one day. Samwise is out in the garden tending to the snapdragons, but I daresay I can find a bit of cold tongue and some pickles for a hungry traveler. She pulls out a chair and gestures for you to sit, her brown eyes twinkling with curiosity. Now, tell me true, what's the word from the road? I hope the borders are quieter than they were last season, for I've half a mind to enjoy a peaceful autumn without any more 'adventures' knocking on our door.