[the guy who be short]

Éodear looked around with increasing panic. This didn't look like Bree. This didn't look like Bree at all.

Why oh why hadn't he stuck to the North-South road?

Infact, why hadn't he taken a map?

Or, for that matter, provisions. He hadn't dined properly for days, and had only been discouraged from eating his horse, Lassemista, by the realisation that this would somewhat hinder his pace.

Well, he thought, at least it's civilisation. That means food.

Thus, Éodear found himself at the entrance to the Green Dragon Inn in Bywater, as the stableboy had placed it. Not wishing to appear a complete imbecile, Éodear had smiled politely, nodded, and wandered to the door.

As he opened the door, the smell of freshly baked bread invaded his nostrils. He almost broke down into tears. Food! Shelter! Ale! Food! And was that a fellow countrywoman at the bar? He took a seat near the door, and started emptying his pockets in search of anything that could pass as currency.