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A very damp hobbit wanders in the front door. His hands are pruny, and his hair is still dripping, and his lips are slightly blue. It's possible he's been swimming for too long.

He orders something warm and gets hot chocolate and a towel. He dries his hair vigorously for a moment, then picks up his hot chocolate and starts looking under tables and in corners, probably disturbing a few people as he goes.

After all, it's not every day a hobbit peers under your table and walks away for no apparant reason.

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Shannon looks down at him, literally, and probably figuratively as well. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for a dog," he explains. "Have you seen one? It can write."

"A kid back at the island has a dog, and that's the only one I've seen for a really long time. And it can't write."

"This one cries over cheese," Smeagol says, looking behind Shannon's chair. "I think I scared it the other day, and it sort of ran off. If you see it, will you tell me?" he looks at her hopefully.

"Sure, whatever."

"Thanks," he says, and then remembers his manners. He holds out his hand in greeting. "I'm Smeagol, by the way."

She shakes his hand gingerly. It's been awhile since she's done that. "Shannon."

He bows over Shannon's hand, quickly and politely, and lets go equally quickly. "I'm going to go look some more. If you see him, make sure you tell him I'm looking for him, please."

Shannon smiles a little, or at least stops looking so annoyed. This whole thing with people bowing at her is something she could get used to. "I guess I'll do that."

"Thanks," says Smeagol, and wanders off to look under someone else's table.

Ivy had been sitting alone in one of the booths trying to memorize the Braille alphabet on the card that Ray had given her that morning when she felt something slightly damp brush against her leg. She gave a short yelp of surprise, pulling her legs away.

"Who is there?" she asked, wide-eyed. If there was anything she hated, it was being snuck up on.

"Sorry," Smeagol says, pulling his head out from underneath the table. "Just looking for something. You haven't seen a dog around here, have you?"

"I am sorry, but I am not aware of there being any dogs around recently, no, although I would not have been able to see one if there was," Ivy replied with a faint smile.

"Oh." Obliviously: "why?"

"I am blind," Ivy replied, but was not offended. In fact, when people mistook her for someone who could see, it gave her a great deal of satisfaction.

Smeagol blinks.

"Oh. Sorry."

"No reason to be sorry," Ivy smiled. "I am Ivy. What is your name?"

"Smeagol." He hopes she doesn't know it.

Thankfully for him, she didn't. "It is good to meet you, Smeagol," Ivy replied warmly. "Is it your dog which you are seeking? Perhaps if you called it, it would come?"

"It's not my dog, it's a dog." Pause. "Actually, it's probably smarter than me. It can write, but I can't read, so I don't know what it's called."

Ivy leaned forward and lowered her voice as if she was speaking to Smeagol in confidence. "I cannot write or read, either," she whispered with a faint smile. "But I am going to learn. Perhaps you could learn as well."

Smeagol smiles.

"I am," he says proudly. "Val is going to teach me."

"Well, there you go!" Ivy smiled, leaning back. "You are smart, too. Being smart is not about necessarily about what you know."

"I'm clever in my own way," Smeagol agrees. "I've had to be."

"I do not doubt it," Ivy agreed. "Where are you from?"

"Middle-earth. I died. What about you?"

"Covington Woods. I did not." Ivy grinned.

"That's good. I wouldn't recommend it."

"I will try to remember that good advice. Have you been here very long?"

He nods.

"At least half a year. Probably more."

"Do you like it?" Ivy paused then, remembering why he had bumped into her in the first place. "Oh, I am sorry; am I keeping you from your quest?"

"It's better than where I was.

Well . . . I probably should keep looking," he says thoughtfully. "I'll talk to you later, maybe?"

"I would enjoy that," Ivy replied. "Good luck. I hope find him."

It's too bad Ivy can't see, really, because that just makes Smeagol smile.

"Thank you. I'll look for you later."

And he's off.

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