The Unicorn was bustling when they entered. The bar was lined with men on stools. The corner tables were taken.
"Mead, if you've got it!" called Therian over the noise. A pretty barmaid served it in pints. "Haven't you got any half pints? Hobbit sized ones?"
She smiled the kind of smile that assured him they'd be well tended all night, and said, looking him up and down, "Are you, perchance... hobbit sized?"
"I'm proportional," he said, and began to say something else when Branor interrupted.
Branor stuck out his hand. "I'm Rick. Rick Cottontree. We're here to find out about hobbits."
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