The lonely elf

[Serenoli]

Linduile her name was. Pretty, some said. Plain, others dissented. All agreed she was clever, and all agreed she had sharp and lovely eyes. Clever and witty? Again, all agreed, and even those who didn't like her, eventually muttered, 'Well, one could call her clever... I suppose...'

Who was she? An elf, that was plain. But from where? None could tell. No one really knew why she had travelled who knew how far, only to live so quietly by herself near the river. Heads shook, tongues wagged. Something had happened in her past, that was for sure, something that had caused her to flee her home. Well, they were simple, hardy folk and though they had healthy curiosities, as long as her troubles did not affect them, they were perfectly content to let her live and be their neighbour. She did not disturb them, and the only business she did was weaving and dress-making. She excelled at both crafts, and she earned enough for all her comforts. No one knew what these comforts were, exactly, as no one had ever really been in her home by the river... but then, as she never had been in any of their homes, they could not very well expect her to throw her doors open for them.

It was lucky for Linduile that the townsfolk thought her aloofness due to her past troubles, for if once they had decided she was only lonely due to pride, her life would have been miserable. But they treated her with respect, and friendliness, and this was perhaps due to the hope they each had of finding out her secret.

No one came even close, for Linduile knew how to evade all their surmises, guesses, indirect and direct questions with considerable skill and experience. It was a chance accident that revealed it...