[littlemanpoet]

Whilst the inn staff scurried about, bringing food and drink for the two new guests and two old guests, Eodwine racked his brain for a tale to tell, narrowing his eyes scoldingly at Saeryn while he did so. She gave him a mischievous look, apparently ready to stick her tongue out should he tell her something sharp. He grinned.

"Well now, a tale. Let's see. I could tell the one of the hobbit who barely escaped from Numenor by hiding in the cloak of the Black Umbarian stow away. Or I could tell the one about the Entwife who stood outside the Green Dragon Inn watching hobbits. Or-"

"Where'd you come up with that one?" Falco slurred around his pipe.

"Oh, just out of the blue," Eodwine murmured innocently. "Or I could tell the one about the mouse with the sword who fought against rats."

"Oh, I've heard those before," Saeryn rolled her eyes. "They all sound the same after a while."

"Too true, too true," Eodwine replied. "Or there's the one about the dragon who made a farmer a king! I like that one!"

"You're stealing 'em now," Falco accused.

"A good story stolen is still a good story, as the saying goes," Eodwine quipped.

"Who says that?" Falco queried, leaning forward.

"I do." Eodwine grinned.

"I know a good one, father," Gudryn said, "but you won't like it." She looked at Eodwine shyly.

"Go ahead, my sweet," Eodwine said.

"Tell the one about the King's man and the men of Dunland."

Eodwine frowned. He guessed what she wanted. He was not sure he did not want the same thing, but was unsure that he could tell the story without the gravity it bore for him. "That one is not ready for telling, my dear."

"I would like to hear it anyway, father," she said meekly.

Eodwine sighed. "Not until I get yarnspinner's pay, then. A tankard of mead, this time, I'm thinking, if the innkeeper has it?"