[Nurumaiel]

"How fortunate can a poor hobbit get? It stops raining when we reach the Inn! Couldn't it have been sunny while we were walking and then started raining when we were indoors?"

"You're always complaining. At least we got here."

The voices could be heard from outside, and as the door swung open four wet hobbits were revealed. Two of them stopped just outside to wring the waters out of their cloaks outside the Inn; one wrung the rain from his cloak inside the doorway, glaring defiantly about him; and the fourth walked innocently in without wringing his cloak at all, his round face brightening at the sight of the warm drinks. The first two stepped inside, frowning in disgust at the third. Those first two looked almost exactly alike in features, but were almost opposites after that. Both had brown curls, but one had neatly combed his while the other had left his in tangles. Their faces were similiar... jolly and cheerful, but one had round, red cheeks while the other's cheeks were thinner (though not overly thin; he was a hobbit). Another distinction was that the second's face bore a thoughtful, shy expression while the first looked open and entirely sociable. They were dressed very nicely in bright colors, but one had kept his clothes in very neat condition while the other's outfit was splattered with mud and torn in several places. Their twinkling blue eyes, however, did not differ in the least.

The third hobbit had a grouchy expression on his rather handsome face. He seemed older than the other two, at least by a little. Brown hair of a dirty color fell over his face and he smoothed it back in an annoyed fashion. His eyes were also brown and he gazed about him in a hawk-like fashion. He seemed to come from a family of considerable wealth, judging by the richness of his clothing. The clothes were dirty with mud and rain, however. It seemed to aggravate him, for whenever he looked down at himself he frowned. His nose was long and sharp, his eyes narrow and also sharp. He was rather tall for a hobbit, and he had an altogether frightening air about him.

The fourth hobbit, now sitting contentedly nearly the fireplace with a mug of beer in his hand, warming his toes, was very odd to look at. His hair was a very light brown, so light it was almost gold, and his blue eyes were vacant and expressionless. Nay, that would not do. It was not as if he were a half-wit, but there was something entirely innocent about him. He radiated gentleness and kindness, and the look on his face clearly told he expected everyone to do the same. He smiled brightly whenever he saw anyone looking at him, and a very lovely smile it was. His features were almost feminine. His hair was longer than the other hobbits, his face pale and pretty with a little pink in the cheeks. How often his features had gained laughter from the other hobbit lads. He seemed younger than his companions, perhaps just barely out of his tweens. His innocence and simplicity were attractive and strange.

"Hello, everybody!" cried one of the hobbits in a loud voice. Many eyes turned towards them. It was the first hobbit, the sociable-looking hobbit who had groomed himself so well. The second hobbit, the shy and mud-splattered hobbit, blushed deeply and murmured softly, "Please, Blanco, don't be so noisy. There are people here."

"I know." The first hobbit, called Blanco, turned a rather surprised face to the second. "If there weren't people here, Posco, why would I say hello to them? It doesn't make sense."

The other hobbit shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the many beings. "Yes, I know, Blanco, but they aren't all hobbits." His eyes widened considerably and he dropped his voice even lower, saying in a barely audible voice, "Big Folk."

"I like Big Folk," said Blanco in the same loud voice. "I'm going to make friends with them all, just you wait and see."

"You two are absolutel fools," said the grouchy looking hobbit. "If you had any sense you'd go get yourselves a drink and sit by Bingo. Go now." He scowled fiercely at the two hobbits until they went, muttering about 'Old Grouchy Marcho.' He scowled at their backs and then went to sit by the the fourth hobbit, who had called Bingo. His face softened when he was greeted with a cheerful smile. "Hello, lad," he said.

"Hello, Marcho," the gentle hobbit said. "It's so lovely here. The fire is very warm."

"I don't know if that walk in the rain was good for you. I know you get sick easily."

"That's all right; I don't mind. It doesn't make me unhappy, so you don't need to worry. As long as everyone else is pleased, so am I." He smiled that sweet, innocent smile and sipped at his drink. "This is quite delicious," he said. "Would you like me to go get you one?"

"No, no, it's all right, Bingo. I can get one myself. Sit and rest a bit. You were quite tired after our walk."

"It was good exercise," said Bingo, but he obeyed and sat quietly, gazing about him and sipping thoughtfully at his drink.