[Arvedui III]

The steps of the guardhouse seemed rather cold, Brass thought once Bill Ferny had finished talking to them. Gone. It was the one word that was troubling him as Olo lit his pipe and Hob fingered with a paper of some kind in the quiet night. Where would the Tooks go? Brass furrowed his brow and thought, quite a bothersome activity if anyone asked him, until his head hurt and he shrugged it off. Wherever the Tooks would go, he supposed it wasn't his business, but still, the way Ferny had put it bothered him.

Gone. Well, just forget it, Brass Stonetoe. It's just a word. Words can't do no harm.

Shifting his feet in the awkward silence of the evening, Brass was beginning to wonder if and when his fellow sheriffs were going to move when he felt a tug on his left sleeve. Brass started, looking jerkily around for whoever wanted his attention. He was eyeing a particularly bright star when the voice of Hob Fields oriented him. "Hey you two, I've got some pipeweed and a bit o' ale that I managed to rescue from the Big Folk's private stores. Either of you care to join me under the bridge and just relax for an hour or two? We can get our travel satchels together later today. After all, tomorrow morning will come soon enough." It was too dark and too late for Brass to register everything Hob said, but he did hear the key words: pipeweed, ale, relax. Now there was sensible hobbit.

Sporting a grin that got successively larger with each new word of relaxation and pleasure, Brass replied, "I like the way you think, Hob, and I wouldn't be a hobbit if I refused yeh." Hob seemed to smile back, although it was a much smaller grin than Brass's. Olo also, smirked down at them and voiced his opinion with a merry, "Well then, bring on the ale, mate!"

As the three of them walked jovially toward the bridge, Brass couldn't help but thinking that this mission was going to turn out just fine.