The hobbit, the loremistress, and the ranger had departed, and the inn was echoingly quiet once again.
Nose twitching, the mouse explored under their table. They had left no crumbs. Nor had they left any droplets of beer, for which the mouse felt a little sad; he had noticed that he slept well after drinking the strange-tasting drops.
There had been a man at the window, staring in from under the trees. Perhaps he would return, and drop some crumbs. Or bring some friends who would drop some crumbs. The mouse sat up, and sniffed, and rubbed his face with his paws.
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