[Undómë]

Seated nearby was a table of Shire folk and one of the biggest men Hob had ever seen. Now Girdley Island was on the north eastern boundary of the Shire, and there were many different folk that passed through the small inn there. The Cottonwood Inn had rangers of all sorts and sizes that frequented it, some rougher looking than others, though most of them tall and wiry in build. And there were the Men from the nearby farms. Broad built and muscular, they enjoyed their ale and the hearty fare the cook there served. The very occasional Elf, there was that visited, but they were quiet folk and moved on quickly. All of them heading west.

And once there had been a pair of Dwarfs. Sturdy fellows on their way north to see to some old mines they’d heard of up there. No wizards - that he had heard of. Though once a fellow cloaked all in brown had may his way across the bridge to the island. He’d left a wounded goose he’d found in the woods nearby. Mended its wing and asked the Innkeeper to look after it. Still waddled about the Inn yard, that goose. Cook never took the axe to it, didn’t have the heart to. She said it always seemed to be looking for something or someone.

But a big fellow, like the one he was looking at now, now that was something they’d not seen on Girdley.

There was another fellow at the big man’s table, one of the Big Folk, but not as large as the other. He too was leaning forward, looking as if he had just asked a question and was waiting for an answer. Hob’s tablemates were busy discussing the success of the Spring lambing and gave him a friendly wave when he excused himself, saying he thought he saw someone he knew. He made his way to the big fellow’s table and stood at the edge until someone scooted a chair out for him, inviting him to sit down.

The man who had looked as if he’d asked a question, spoke up again. ‘What about this ‘bear’ you spoke of?’

Ah, thought Hob, a good hunting story! He settled in to listen . . .