[littlemanpoet]

"I be a peddler, ye see, and I sold ye a bush knife, and for half price too, because ye were so young. And look at ye now, all grown up and made yer fortune. No sir, I never forget anyone I helped out along de way."

Falowik frowned with the effort to remember. So it was Bree. Yes! He remembered now. Few and far between were fond memories of Bree. Old Barliman and Jean Peddlar were rare in his memory.

Uien had followed Aman to the kitchen. Falowik picked up his mug and excused himself to Eodwine and the others. He walked over to the table where Jean Peddlar and a hobbit sat.

"May I sit here?" Jean Peddlar looked up at him with eyes that betrayed his miff at not being recognized, not to mention finding Falowik slow to converse.

"Nobody's stopping ye."

This was not a good start, which did not bode well in Falowik's mind, since he was not given to trusting others much at all, and up until a few months ago, not trusting anyone but himself! Not even Barliman who had helped him escape. He sat down.

"Forgive my rudeness, Master Peddlar, sir. I am not known for my sterling manners."

"Oh aye," said the Peddlar off-hand like.

Falowik nodded to the one whose name he had overheard as Peony.

"What brings you to The Green Dragon, Master Peddlar?"