[Elora]

Falco emerged into the commonroom in freshly pressed waistcoat, still smoothing it over his stomach as he walked. The table had largely emptied. Doderic sat talking with another group of Hobbits, Falco noted. Thoronmir sat with two Elves, Lira and Esgallhugwen, along with Anson and Gorby. They seem to be chatting amicably. If he understood the gist of things, Thoronmir had been appointed leader.

Falco's smoothing of his waistcoat ceased as he learnt of that. At least it is not Falowik.... but Big Trouble will come of this. You'd best be alert, Falco Boffin. You know what Big Folk Ruffians can do. Were any of these at the Battle of Bywater? Falco seemed to settle a little, but warily so. As his thoughts ran, he looked carefully about for some ale.

He settled onto the bench next to Anson and Gorby, so as to keep an eye on the young, exciteable fellows and to listen well to what was being discussed.

"Thoronmir is going to lead us," Anson informed him with a pleased smile.
"Lucky for us," Falco replied neutrally as he eyed Thoronmir.
"And we've got the whole day to ourselves to enjoy before we leave at dawn," Gorby added, beaming.
"Dawn!" Falco's reply was a little high pitched, a squeaky sound of dismay. Leave them alone for ten minutes and look at the ridiculous things they arrange.

"Aye, dawn, Shirrif Boffin, so as to get underway and on our trail before the heat of the day slows us. Those we track have a good lead on us," Thoronmir observed calmy. Falco subsided, still less than pleased at the prospect of his third, no forth, early start with no decent breakfast, second breakfast.

"Barbaric," Falco muttered, his gaze slipping from Thoronmir's intent, if amused one, to the rest of the table. Realising that the chief architects of this folly weren't present, he looked about the room. Before Falco could ask where Falowik had slipped off to with that Uien, Falco observed a familiar face.

With a speed that his stature belied, Falco was off the bench and across the room. He stood at a table in the corner where three hobbits, one in particular, were trying look scarce.

"Well Master Sackville, good of you to meet me here like this. I'll be sure to mention it on your behalf." The Master Sackville seemed to deflate. "Up you come, I'll find someone to mention it to now."

There was a round of protests at the table. "Now!? I've still to finish my pint, Shirrif." Falco smiled obligingly, reached for Master Sackville's pint and polished it off, wiping the foam from his upper lip with relish. "I've some spare time, and I'll not waste it watching you nurse your ale."

With the matter of the ale sorted out, Master Sackville stood and was escorted out brusquely by Falco by the elbow. As they left, Falco seeking a suitably responsible person to deposit this felon into custody with, Falco observed the following.

"Seems to me to be strange, Master Sackville, as to why a perfectly good farmer would steal his neighbours cows and then sell them back to him. I would have sold them at the next town, if you understand me... Then, I suppose you'll have lots of time to ponder that. Mind your step, Master Sackville, don't want you stubbing your toes."

As Falco breezed through the courtyard with his newly apprehended cow entrepreneur, he finally located Falowik, standing with Uien in the courtyard. Probably wondering which horse to steal from the hitching post... Big trouble, both of them.... double big trouble. He was unable to make any further observations as Master Sackville had decided to make a bid for freedom.

"Now, now, that isn't the way and well you know it. We need to go down here, remember, from the two times before... come along, Master Sackville." Off the pair strode into the streets of Bree, Shirrif and reluctant felon. Falco had found something to do with his spare time quickly, and it pleased him no end.