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Old 06-29-2003, 01:16 PM   #111
piosenniel
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
 
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Sting

Tom came bounding up to the Hobbits on the grass - barking and yipping in glee. The man who had rescued them had his back turned to the happy mutt and was nearly knocked to one side as Tom’s weighty tail slapped against him.

‘Hey, get off me!’ cried Ben, pushing at the dog who straddled him and insisted on licking his face. Tom snorted at him, a playful look in his eyes then leaped like an overgrown puppy to the side of one of the other Hobbits, and gave a big wet slurp on the cheek in greeting.

Ben shaded his eyes against the bright sun and looked up at the man in brown. He stood up, a little wobbly on his feet, and bowed courteously to their rescuer.

‘Ben, sir,’ he said, by way of introduction. ‘Benton Muddyfoot, of Buckland, The Shire.’ He looked expectantly at the man. ‘And you, sir – who might you be. We should know your name if we are to give you our thanks.’
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