[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl ducked a flying beer mug, thrown by an unknown hobbit. She yawned, and held her aching head. She anounced to whomever was listening: "I am going to bed. Goodnight!"

She grabbed her small pack, and pushed her way through the crowd of hungry- and some drunken- hobbits. The stairs creaked as she slowly walked up them, with a stream of tired hobbits behind them. The dust on the walls was dusted off while the drunk hobbits stammered to the wall for support.

She found her room at the end of the hall, and put her things behind the door. She saw a small plated with a hard and old biscuit on it. It's all they have, she thought.
She sat on the bed, and ate by the small candle. She stood quickly, and walked with a brisk pace to the window. Outside, the wind and snow beat against the fragile windows. She stared at the snow, but all she could see was white. She sighed, and plopped on the small feather bed. It wasn't as fluffy as it used to be. She sighed, and layed her head down on the almost frozen pillow.