[Child of the 7th Age]

OOC: We had a crossposting. Everyone should see the discussion thread for an explanation how to fix this.

Branda glanced over at the noisy table beside him that was overflowing with hobbits. The snowball fight had broken the ice as they all chattered away without any sign of strain.

He was relieved to note that Carl had skinned his squirrel and salted the meat. At a time like this, even the smallest morsel of food needed to be treated with respect.

The only hobbit absent from the common room was Bullroarer. He'd spoken with Branda about his plans. Then he'd retired to his own room to think on some of the difficulties of the mission.

Branda suggested that Lotho and Emerald join the larger table to talk. The hobbits dragged over an extra bench, so that everyone would cosily fit in. Branda excused himself to Daffodyl for interrupting her conversation, saying he was very sorry, but they needed to decide on their plans for the next day.

He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a map, and set it down for all to see. Branda was slowly getting the hang of mapreading. He'd confessed his ignorance to Emerald and Lotho, and they had helped him.

Branda pounded on the table like a junior Bullroarer to get the hobbits' attention. Then, he raised his flagon for a toast, "To the Shire, and to success on the road!"

There were many sounds of "here, here!" in their own circle and even from other guests who wished them well on the trek.

Encouraged by success, Branda tried a second time, "To the Elves, our friends!"

Branda's own table cheered aplenty at that, but the noise from the other hobbits was not quite so loud. It was not that anyone actually disliked the Elves, just that they seemed quite strange and different. And many there had never seen or spoken with any of the fair folk.

Branda pointed to the map. "Tomorrow, we need to make Whitefurrows, or a little beyond. We must arrive well before nightfall."

Emerald stood up and objected, "But that's barely ten miles. It should be a snap. Can't we go further than that?"

"Sorry Emerald. There's a problem. I expect you're thinking of staying at the "Barking Hound", but I've got some bad news."

Faces around the table fell. Most had indeed anticipated another warm bed, a roaring hearth fire, and a good pint.

Branda sighed, "The Barking Hound was closed last week. The owner's cupboard was bare."

"But couldn't we at least sleep there?" Giles suggested. It would be warmer than camping in the woods."

"I wish we could, but the fellow took his family and cleared out. They've boarded up the Inn. Some say he's gone to stay with his brother in Southfarthing who has more food than he does."

There were groans and moans at this unhappy prospect.

"Tomorrow, we need a group to scout out the road ahead. You'll need to rise early, and get a head start. The road shouldn't be dangerous, since we're still within the Shire, but you've got to set up some kind of sleeping arrangements for us. Persuade a farmer to let us into his stable or haystack, preferably something inside. If anyone knows a family along the East road near Whitefurrows, then you and your group would be perfect for the job."

"I also need another volunteer. Someone who knows how to ice fish, or who'd like to learn. The Water stands less than two miles north of Whitfurrows. If we can arrive there in the late afternoon, we'll go fishing, especially since we'll need to repay the farmer for his help. Even gold seems to have less meaning these days. What talks is something that fills the belly."

"Anyways," Branda explained, "I'll go with someone and catch a batch of fish to feed ourselves, and our host. The scouting party can let the farmer know that. They'll be more likely to take us in."

Giles, ever cautious, looked over at Branda, "But is that a good idea, to have you and another straying off the main road? There's been talk of howling wolves off the main thoroughfair. And the snowdrifts may be piled high."

"Aye, I'm aware, but we have little choice. The river there is good for fishing. I can guarantee you a catch. There's no Inn for us to eat at. In normal times, a farmer would throw open his larder to us, but these times aren't normal. And we mustn't eat up all the extra fish Sandy is carrying. That's for a real pinch. We're not in so badly yet we have to eat all our back-up food."

"So, now, I need a group of hobbits to scout the road and secure a place to sleep, and another person to come fishing with me. Just come forward and tell me. The rest of you, finish your ale and get to bed. We'll be up early."

Just then, the door blew wickedly open, and the Innkeeper came staggering in under a heavy load of fireplace logs. He was completely covered with snow, and grim words came out of his mouth, "It's getting really bad out there. Worse than before."

The hobbits looked at each other and sighed.

"And, by the way, Branda grinned, "Bullroarer said if no one volunteered, he'd be volunteering them, by pulling them out of bed early in the morning!" All of the hobbits groaned again.