“Well, Anson,” I said. “Safe at last. I never realized how troublesome and adventure can be.”
Anson nodded and said, “I would like to get a pipe and a bit of tobacco.”
“I don’t believe we’ll find any here, though,” I sighed, kicking at a stone. It danced away through the tufts of grass and skittered to a stop. I trotted after it and kicked it again where it pattered off into a forest of weeds and stones. I was too lazy to go and look for it so I said, “From insane adventure to complete boredom.” I wondered if there was a happy medium between the two. More than likely not, I presumed and sighed.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if we had a nice hobbit hole and a fire and our gardens,” Anson said, patting me on the back.
I nodded glumly and collapsed onto the ground, which creaked in protest. A voice within the ground. Fingers of chillness traced my skin as I imagined a morbid wight creeping within the dirt. I shuddered and rolled off the mat, brushing the dirt away. A wooden trap door was revealed to us.
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