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Thornden, having had his question answered, relapsed into silence. He quietly pushed the last bit of eggs about in his place as he gnawed on his inner lip. He thought about Eodwine’s question - “Do any of you want to be an innkeeper?” He did not really want to be, no. He doubted he’d be fit for the job. But - and Thornden sighed a little - if Eodwine wished it, he would remain.
Thornden looked towards the Eorl. He would love nothing better than to stay by his side and go with him to his new holding. Yet he would do as Eodwine bid him. It was his duty.
Before he could voice such thoughts, Falco spoke up. What bit of news could the hobbit have? Thornden waited with the rest to hear it and finally it came out.
“My friends,” said that noble hobbit, glancing around the kitchen to indicate all of them, “I have greatly enjoyed the company of all of you, but I feel that I have spent enough time in Rohan, and I can hear the road calling me back to the Shire. It is time for me to be going. Now. Well, today at any rate.”
What did the little fellow...?
“Well, that is sad news, I am sure, Falco,” Eodwine said, interrupting Thornden’s surprised thought. “But I am curious. What have you got in your pocket?”
What has he got up his sleeve, rather? Thornden thought to himself. This new idea was sudden, it seemed, and very unexpected. Thornden did not think very badly of Falco, but he did not entirely trust him and his flighty way of thinking. He clapped a sharp eye on the hobbit and waited for him to answer Eodwine.
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