[Arry]

Jack scraped the mud off his boots as best he could, then pushed on the heavy oaken door with both his arms. He turned for a brief moment and waved back at Alwin, grinning broadly as the old man motioned him on with a shake of his walking stick. He paused for a moment in the entryway, letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light of the Inn.

There to his right along the wall was the big stone fireplace. Two large logs crackled and popped against each other, driving away the earlier dampness of the day. To one side he saw a number of Hobbit men, five in fact. There were smiles on their faces, and a sense of camaraderie in the way they greeted and spoke with each other. At one point one of them began to sing, his efforts greeted with a range of acceptance by his mates. And over there was an interesting looking fellow, green-cloaked and yellow-booted. A big smile wreathed the man’s features, hidden now and then by the generous cloud of smoke from his pipe.

‘Well, this looks like a pretty fair place old Alwin’s brought us to!’ he said out loud, to no one in particular.

A polite cough at his elbow drew his attention, and turning he found himself face to face with one of the serving lasses. Buttercup, she said, smiling sweetly at the young boy. And what would the young master be wanting at the Inn she continued.

‘That table over there by the fire – the one with the chair by the hearth. And cider for me please,’ he said, his eyes lighting up at the thought of the sweet drink. ‘Oh and a bowl of that soup I can smell all the way out here from the kitchen . . . and bread with some honey.’ Jack blushed as Buttercup as she laughed at his enthusiasm. ‘Will that be all, little master,’ she said grinning as she took him to the table and settled him in. ‘Or will you be saving any room for a slice of the apple tart I just saw Ruby take from the oven?’

‘Apple tart,’ he squeaked, his eyes gone wide. ‘Oh, yes please! I’m sure I’ll have room.’

The door to the Inn opened wide, and Alwin stepped in, blinking like an old owl. Jack stood up on the seat of his chair and waved him over. ‘Why it’s Master Alwin,’ said Buttercup, smiling as the older man approached. ‘Nice to have you back, Sir . . .’