Max sat in his favorite wooden chair, by the fire, with a pint of the best stuff in the shire. 'God, it's been a long day,' he thought. Max had been slaving away in the field all day, and it was tiresome work. Max was a young gardener for Podula Proudfoot, and he was itching to get out of the shire. He was odd for a Hobbit by stature; he was born thin, and tall, very tall, 4 foot 8 (which, for a hobbit, is gargantuan). He glanced around the inn, and saw many boisterous folks deep in talk with other travelers, and in a corner, a few men playing cards in a tight nit bunch. Max got up, repositioned himself, and sat back down ahain. He hoped something eciting would happen to him. He thirsted for a good adventure.
|