[Groin Redbeard]

Groin still stood against the wall listening to Toller. He was just taking the last sip of ale when another hobbit entered the conversation.
"Pardon me, mister dwarf, I see you have come from afar." Groin looked at him a bit startled.
"I am Brandybuck, Rorimac Brandybuck, from Pincup, you surely heard of that place, haven't you? It is really impressive to meet someone that... erm... I mean, someone from outside... and you have to know, is anything interesting happening out there?" Groin laughed as he put his empty ale glass down.
“Well,” he said still laughing, “good morning to you too. My name’s Groin." He grabbed the hobbit's hand and shook it.
“Excuse me sir,” Toller said chiming in, “I’ve been neglecting my duties; if you’re still here tonight I can finish the story.”
“I’ll be here Toller, I’ll see tonight.” Toller quickly backed away to another table and started cleaning the mess of dirty plates.

“I’m sorry mister hobbit, what did you say your name was?”
“Rorimac Brandybuck.”
“Well mister Brandybuck, in answer to your question, there seems to be quite an uproar down south in a place called Gondor. Have you heard of the place?” the hobbit paused and scratched his head trying to remember.
“Nope can’t say that I have.”
“Well anyway, I heard it from a Ranger that some kind of dark lord, or something, has got the elves ‘round that parts pretty jumpy.” The Hobbit’s eyes gleamed as Groin continued talking.
“Now I can’t say that I agree with that kind of talk. elves are always trying to make a big deal out of nothing.” Groin stroked his chin trying to think of something that a Hobbit would like to hear.
"As a matter of fact something did happen to me a couple of days ago right on the edge of the Old Forest."
the hobbit's ears perked up, and began to pull up a seat.

“Now I’m not one to stay around in a place for to long a time,” said Groin, while pulling up a chair and sitting next to the hobbit, “I’ve spend most of my time wondering the wilderness of Arnor.”
“One day I was cooking my evening dinner. Nothing much just a couple rabbits that I was able to catch with my snare. Anyways, I was starting the fire when I heard a wolf’s howl in the distance. Well I didn’t pay any heed to it at the time; wolves may be uncommon in these here parts, but nothing unusual. The sun has gone down a long time ago, so I build the fire up real good to keep all of them nocturnal creatures away. I got out my bedroll and was unfolding it when I heard rustling in the bushes to my right; I grab my axe that was lying next to me. No sooner then when I got to my feet, a wolf sprang from the bushes letting loose with a snarl. I charged the beast, my axe raised over my head; the wolf dodged my first strike, and would have been on me in another second, but it stopped. It sat there as if waiting for something; immediately I knew I was being played with, to my back another wolf leapt from the shadows, but I dealt him a blow that knocked him dead at my feet. I turned to meet the other and drove my axe through his skull.” The hobbit eyes were wide with excitement.

“I saw more shadows in the distance: more of the pack was coming. I knew I couldn’t hold them off were I was positioned, and so I ran to the biggest tree I could find, and started climbing as quickly as I could. Before I could even get up the first branch, wolf…” Groin paused remembering the sight of the creature, “No, it was a warg. Yes, I’m sure it was a warg; out of nowhere it leapt upon me, its giant paw scarring my right shoulder!” Groin was almost on the verge of shouting, acting out every move. Groin looked about at the hobbits; some of who were giving him annoyed glares. Groin cleared his throat proceeded with his story, in a quieter tone.

“Now luckily, when the warg had jumped on me, he landed on my axe. I rolled the warg off myself, leaving my axe imbedded in his chest. I leapt for the nearest branch, and caught it with my left arm, and pulled myself up.
I stayed on that branch for the duration of the night, until the rest of the wolves left.”

Groin reached into his pouch and pulled out a short hand carved pipe.
“Absolutely fascination!” Rorimac said with a wide grin on his face, “What do you think this means having wolves this far south.”
“I don’t rightly know,” Groin said, stuffing his pipe with some sort of weed and lighting it, “But something’s driving them from the north. Probably not enough game for them to hunt, of course that’s just my personal opinion.” He puffed on his pipe, a trail of smoke protruding from his mouth.
“But you can be assured of this mister Brandybuck: everything I’ve told you is the truth.” Groin reached with his left arm and lifted the leather armor, covering his right shoulder, revealing a freshly dealt scar.