Falco Bobbin wasn't going nowhere. He'd told his news and questions had been asked, so he'd done his part. Then Cook gave out that she was making supper and "don't you be runnin' off without any". Falco wasn't going nowhere.
He had plenty of catching up to do with the folk hereabouts, and they wanted news of Michel Delving. Sure, there was constant coming and going from the middle of the Shire to either end and back, but no news was old news if it came from a different mouth, the more willing and friendly the better. So Falco held forth on who gave what mathoms to whom, how it was with relations from here to the Towers and back, and what all he knew else. And he got as good as he gave.
Not least amongst all the talk was mention by and by of what Hobbit lasses were unattached and willing to be visited by eligible bachelors such as hisself. O'course, it wasn't hard to notice such eligible lasses right here in The Green Dragon Inn. Two such pretties seemed to be all about while he sat at table, serving this Elf and that Human, cleanin' this, scrubbin' that, and nary a glance his way but oh so busy within easy catch of his eye.
An' he had their names 'afore long: Ruby and Buttercup. Well now, fancy that. There was a flower name in Buttercup, and a precious stone name in Ruby. Pretty as you please, and fitting as far as he could tell. Yes, it was going to be a fine evening. Falco wasn't going nowhere this night.
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