[Envinyatar]

"Just, one thing. What's in town? I've never actually gone into it."

Derufin, a perplexed look on his face, pulled his pipe from his mouth and looked at the man beside him. Beren seemed sincere in his question and there was no hint he could read on his features that said the man was pulling his leg. ‘Must be from a larger town . . . or perhaps a city,’ he thought to himself.

He tapped the ashes from the bowl of his pipe and rubbed them out in the dirt with his boot. ‘Well, Beren, I’m not quite sure how to answer you. This is the center of the town, so to speak. On Fridays we have the town market here in the front yard – when the weather is good. And there is a Town Hall down the road where the Mayor and his associates meet once a week or twice if there is pressing business. Then down the road to the east are the locks and the small Shiriff’s station. Halfred is the Shiriff and when he’s not busy investigating who tromped through who’s garden – he’s also the mailman.’ Derufin put his now cold pipe into his tobacco pouch and stored it in his vest pocket.

‘Anyone needing their ponies shod or iron work done goes over to the Boffin place if they need something big done – they have a large forge. Or they come here, we have a small one we can use for shoeing or a little tinkering, as need be.’ He got up and stretched, thinking he should get busy mucking out the stalls, since Vanwe was not here. He looked down at the still seated Beren. ‘Oh, and every so often, we push back the tables in the Inn and have some local musicians in. Dance and drink and sometimes a few fireworks.’

He winked broadly at Beren and then turned to walk toward the stable entrance. ‘Should be one coming up in a few weeks when Mistress Piosenniel and her family come through on their way to Gondor,’ he said pausing, and turning back to Beren. ‘Might want to line up someone to squire to the party, eh?!’

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]