[alaklondewen]

Even in his comfortable straw bed that was covered with layers of padding, Adelard had not slept well. Every movement he made, be it small or large, made his injury throb, and so he lay awake most of the night in anguish. Now that morning had come round he was in a sour mood and feeling downright cantankerous. Looking around his camp he searched for someone whose mood he might ruin. There only seemed to be adult Fallohides up and busy at the moment, and he knew he would not get away will ordering them. He would just have to find May. She was supposed to be taking care of him and his injury now anyway.

Adelard told his mother what he wanted to break his fast, and then made his way through the hobbit camp. His family had stopped very close behind the Bolgers, so he still had to cross the Stoor hobbits before arriving at the Harfoots. As the Proudfoot neared the Chubb camp, he noticed Marcho and the Chubb men talking in hushed tones, but as he came closer old Fordogrim began shouting. Adelard ducked behind the nearest cart and listened.

“Don’t you dare stand there accusing me with that crack-brain Bolger scout. If we hadn’t come on this gallavant we’d none of us be in the dangers we’re in, and you and I would still be comfortable and happy in our hole!” Adelard heard the old hobbit crossly say to his son. Accuse him of what? The eavesdropper stuck his head out and leaned a bit closer to hear.

“I know! It was your wife as led you to it! And you, squandering good money on a ridiculous necklace – a necklace that’s good for nothing more than puffing up her vanity and attracting the eyes of thieves! I won’t say I’m glad it’s been stolen, but I ain’t sorry it’s gone!”

Adelard’s eyes widened and he sat back on his heels. Stolen?! But who? He looked around him accusatorily thinking of which of these indigent hobbits would be a thief. It was this moment that the Fallohide remembered seeing the young Crispin Whitfoot gallivanting about late after all others were sleeping. Adelard had immediately become suspicious of the lads actions, and now he knew why. The Proudfoot must have sensed the lad’s criminal activity. I’ve got to tell Fredigar, he thought and jumped up find the lawmaker. He might had stepped in and told Marcho what he knew, but Adelard thought the scout thought too much when obvious action was needed. He wanted someone to act now, not later. If Crispin Whitfoot was a thief, he needed to be punished…immediately.