Billum

The logs on the fire cracked and spat out a hiss of sparks as Billum sat on his pack, which itself rested on a bench pushed up to one of the inn's table. It was a nice enough inn, he supposed. The floor was wood, which he appreciated. He hated walking through the moldy straw so many of these roadside inn's strew about on a dirt floor. One hand scooped hearty beef stew into his mouth as the other laid his "treasures" out on the table in front of him. They weren't true treasures, he knew. He just liked to remind himself why he was out here, sometimes.
"Whatcha got there?" came a piping voice from across the table.
Wide blue eyes stared in rapt attention at the items sitting on the table. The innkeeper's child, a little girl, probably no more than 9 or 10 years old.
Billum lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned closer to the table, pushing his bowl of stew to the side. The table creaked as the girl immediately leaned in as well.
"Treasures, gained from my travels. Each one special."
A gasp issued from the girl, followed by the whispered question "Are any of them magic?"
"Maybe. I'm not a wizard, so I can't tell." Billum replied.
"What's that one?" she asked, pointing to a small glass battle swathed in cloth.
Billum picked the bottle up, a wistful grin on his face as he did so.
"This" he said "is water from a fountain in Rivendell. My favorite fountain to visit while I was there."
"Why was it your favorite?"
"Because of how cunningly made it was. See, the Elves carved the fountain in such a way that as the water fell, it would splash into various stone and metal tubes and bowls, creating musical notes. The fountain sang."
Blue eyes stared at him in wonder as he explained.
"And sometimes" he continued, moving the bottle close to his ear "if I hold it up to my ear like this, I can still hear the music in the water. Would you like to try?"
Snatching the bottle out of his proffered hands, she quickly held up to her ear. As she closed her eyes, listening intently for any snatches of music, Billum quickly snuck his small metal cup out of the side pouch of his pack, and dropped a few coins into it. The sound was flat and tinny, hardly musical, but for a child who wanted to believe, it was enough.
Those blue eyes flew open, and an astonished smile broke across her face.
"Did you hear it?" barely suppressed mirth bubbled up inside him and danced in his eyes as he asked.
"I did, I did, I really did! It was beautiful!" She exclaimed before jumping down off the bench and running over to her mother, who was approaching with a small mug of ale.
"Momma, Momma" she called out, tugging on her mother's apron and pointing at Billum as he gathered up his treasures and began stowing them away "that strange boy has singing water."
Never breaking stride as she expertly dodged around the excited child, the innkeeper shook her head in exasperation before looking back over her shoulder at the child.
"Hush up now, Petra, get back in the kitchen and stop bothering our little guest."
Petra scampered off, probably to brag to her siblings about the singing water she'd just heard, if Billum was to guess.
"I swear, that child, always making up stories." the innkeeper muttered, clanking the mug down in front of Billum. "Was there anything else I can get  you. Another bowl of stew?"
"Oh no, thank you ma'am. I think 2 is just the right amount." Billum said with an easy laugh.
"Suit yourself little master. Your room's made up and ready when you are." came the reply as she bustled off.
Billum smiled before taking a drink of the ale. It was like the inn, nice enough, though a bit fruity for his tastes. So hard to get a good dark porter sometimes. As he jumped down off the bench, he head something clatter to ground next to him. Looking down, there was a small smooth stone lying next to his feet, obviously having fallen off the table. Billum bent over and picked it up, staring at it with disbelief. It was his first treasure, his oldest treasure. Shaking his head slightly, Billum held it up to his nose. It was probably his imagination, he knew, but he could swear that even after all this distance, it still smelled like the Brandywine river. Warm, and sweet, and pure. Billum lingered there for half a second before tucking the stone in the pouch with his other treasures. Time to get to bed. He was heading into the Mirkwood tomorrow, and he'd need his rest before doing so.