Bullroarer returned slowly from the stables to the Inn where he planned to join the other lads in the common sleeping area. As he trudged across the snowy yard, he could see that the weather seemed to be going from bad to worse. The snowflakes were coming down in thick heavy sheets and the wind blowing so hard that it was difficult for the hobbit to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground.
He shook his head in dismay. It looked likely to snow all night. Bullroarer was gifted in the ways of weather, and could often sense or somehow read the signs to tell what might happen. It was an important gift for a hobbit to have. He'd always had this knack, but now the skill seemed even more critical to the well being of the Shire and his people than ever before.
Bullroarer wasn't sure, but he expected the blizzard to continue all night. If he had to guess, he would have said that it might slacken off a bit at the first rays of dawn. Then wither away to a normal snowfall, or what now passed as 'normal' in this strange long winter.
The problem was that no one could venture out on the road until things slackened down a bit. However much Bullroarer wanted to get to Rivendell quickly, it made no sense to go out into a storm and get lost. Roads had a way of vanishing when thick blankets of snow made it impossible to see.
He'd keep an eye on the weather through the night and, if the snow continued, let the hobbits sleep in an extra hour or two. They had little more than ten miles to cover on the morrow. They could easily make it if they started by mid-morning.
Just don't let it accumulate too deeply on the roadside, he thought. Then he went inside and made his way towards his bed.
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