The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - The Green Dragon Inn #11

Undómë · 03-27-2005, 04:29 AM

‘Well, Strawberry, here we are! Let’s get you unharnessed and into a nice stall for the night. Clean straw and a nosebag of oats for all your long traveling today, m’lassie.’ Hobson Bridger pulled his small cart up to the stable and hopped down to the ground. With a practiced series of motions he quickly unharnessed his red chestnut pony from the shafts and led the tired little horse into the stall the stableboy had pointed out to him. A few coins exchanged hands, with the boy promising to rub the pony down and brush her in the morning. The cart was pulled close to the side of the stable and secured beneath the overhanging eaves.

Satisfied his four-legged companion was well taken care of, Hob picked his way across the darkening Inn yard and up the steps to the door. A rush of warm air greeted him as he entered, and he stood for a moment blinking in the lamp and fire lit interior of the common room. His eyes adjusted, he made his way to a small table occupied by several other Hobbits. They offered him the empty seat, passing their jug of hard cider to him along with a clean mug. ‘Green Dragon cider. Put hair on your toes, it will,’ they assured him. He in turn offered a pipeful to each from his pouch of pipeweed. One of the servers came by, and he allowed as how he might try a large wedge of that mushroom pie he’d seen being brought to others. And some bread and butter would be nice and a small wedge of cheese. It had been a very long day on the road from Budge Ford to Bywater, with only a few apples and some cold cornbread from last night’s supper to see him through.

He took a long pull on his drink and then looked about expectantly for someone who might be the Innkeeper. He’d need lodging for the night and perhaps the next few days, depending on how his trading went. Hob leaned back in his chair, listening to the small talk of his tablemates, joining in when he could. His keen brown eyes swept the room slowly as he puffed on his pipe. Just might be a good day at the market tomorrow, he reckoned, that is if the weather held

03-27-2005, 04:29 AM	#1631
Undómë Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Mar 2005 Posts: 400	‘Well, Strawberry, here we are! Let’s get you unharnessed and into a nice stall for the night. Clean straw and a nosebag of oats for all your long traveling today, m’lassie.’ Hobson Bridger pulled his small cart up to the stable and hopped down to the ground. With a practiced series of motions he quickly unharnessed his red chestnut pony from the shafts and led the tired little horse into the stall the stableboy had pointed out to him. A few coins exchanged hands, with the boy promising to rub the pony down and brush her in the morning. The cart was pulled close to the side of the stable and secured beneath the overhanging eaves. Satisfied his four-legged companion was well taken care of, Hob picked his way across the darkening Inn yard and up the steps to the door. A rush of warm air greeted him as he entered, and he stood for a moment blinking in the lamp and fire lit interior of the common room. His eyes adjusted, he made his way to a small table occupied by several other Hobbits. They offered him the empty seat, passing their jug of hard cider to him along with a clean mug. ‘Green Dragon cider. Put hair on your toes, it will,’ they assured him. He in turn offered a pipeful to each from his pouch of pipeweed. One of the servers came by, and he allowed as how he might try a large wedge of that mushroom pie he’d seen being brought to others. And some bread and butter would be nice and a small wedge of cheese. It had been a very long day on the road from Budge Ford to Bywater, with only a few apples and some cold cornbread from last night’s supper to see him through. He took a long pull on his drink and then looked about expectantly for someone who might be the Innkeeper. He’d need lodging for the night and perhaps the next few days, depending on how his trading went. Hob leaned back in his chair, listening to the small talk of his tablemates, joining in when he could. His keen brown eyes swept the room slowly as he puffed on his pipe. Just might be a good day at the market tomorrow, he reckoned, that is if the weather held __________________ Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost, her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night . . .