[piosenniel]

Olo proved as true to his Hobbit nature as they could hope. A few drinks with the companions and a pouch of tobacco passed round to fill their pipes, and he had been accepted into the group as if he had been with them all along. Bullroarer beamed. This was working out better than he had expected when first he had found himself wedged behind that stack of crates hoping not to be discovered.

The hour was growing late, and the sleepy eye of the Innkeeper was now upon them. Most of the guests had already gone to bed, and now the Innkeeper asked Bullroarer for the third time if there was anything else they would be wanting.

‘No, my good man, we’re fine.’ He said. ‘Give us just a few more minutes to discuss our plans for tomorrow and then we’ll be off to bed.’ He waved him off saying, ‘I’ll bank the fire for you when we go upstairs. Go ahead and bar the door now if you wish, we’re all inside.’ Thanking him, the Innkeeper went wearily to his rest.

Bullroarer turned to the companions once he had gone. ‘All right, you Hobbits. Let’s get off to bed soon. We’ll start tomorrow, at first light if we can.’ There was a general groan at this statement, and much yawning. ‘I want us on the road to the Forsaken Inn, about a day’s journey from here. It’s the last nice place we’ll have to stay ‘til we get to Rivendell.’

In ones and twos the companions left the Common Room and found their way to bed. Olo had come up to stand near Bullroarer and Branda while the others left. ‘What sorts of weapons does the group bear?’ he asked. Bullroarer recounted what arms they had, realizing as he ticked them off in review how meager a defense they were.

Olo’s face grew serious as he listened to the short list. ‘We will need to be very careful from here to the Last Bridge, Bullroarer. Very careful. There have been many reports of Wargs.’