The shire travels onward, mane and tail ragged and unkempt from traveling many miles... it is nighttime now, and as he crosses an old wooden bridge over a stream, he glances down... the moon, hanging brightly above, is reflected clearly in the flowing water.

He pauses for a moments rest, contemplating on his journey. So many things, so many people he had left behind in his haste to set out... was this truly the course he had intended? Only the silence was left to anwser him, and the road ahead showed no signs of ending any time soon. Overcome with a sense of sadness gazing at his reflection in the stream, the shires watering eyes turn to look at the heavens, not a cloud in the sky. He blinks to fight away the tears, and plods onward towards his destination, not making so much as a whimper...afraid to cry, even when there is nobody around to see it...