Bullroarer raised his pint to his lips, already feeling the satisfying, cool march of the liquid down his throat. Nothing! It was dry, not a drop left in it. Who could have drunk it?
He looked at the fire, which had burnt down to a small blaze, and laughed. Lost in his ruminations of what needed to be done to get the companions on the road tomorrow, he must have drunk the whole pint dry without realizing it.
Heaving himself up from his comfortable position, he went looking for the Innkeeper. He found him, crouched down behind the bar, inventorying the cordials and wines on hand. 'I say, good Sir,' said Bullroarer, leaning over the bar, 'have you any more of this good ale? Its thirsty work, sitting there by your fire!'
He hummed to himself as he watched the Innkeeper fill the tankard from the barrel. Smiling, as he took it from him, Bullroarer leaned in toward the man, saying in a low voice, 'What news have you had of the Road ahead? We'll be leaving in the morning, bound East a fair way. is there anything we should be looking out for?'
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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