[piosenniel]

Halfred urged Thistle to a slower pace as they turned up the lane to the Inn. 'Looks peaceful enough,' he said, taking in the few tradesmen who sat at tables beneath the trees. All Hobbits he noted, in a satisfied manner. Perhaps the Man and his Elf-wife had decided to leave the Shire. He smiled at this thought, a simple daydream beginning that all these problems had left with them. Reality intruded abruptly as Hob led ‘Falmar from the stable, alongside Mithadan’s horse and turned them loose in the large penned in grassy area beneath the trees. Thistle whinnied at the sight of the large horses, as Halfred frowned.

Thistle ambled to the front steps of the Inn, and waited patiently for Halfred to dismount. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun shone down hot on the little pony as well as the leathered back of Halfred’s beefy neck. The Shiriff pulled his green hat off, and grabbing his red cotton hanky from his breeches’ pocket, wiped the sweat from his florid face. He dismounted, and clomped up the steps to the main door, leaving Thistle to wander over to the shady greensward with the other horses.

The interior of the Inn was cool and dim as he entered the door. And he stood blinking in the entrance for a few moments as his eyes adjusted. There were a number of local Hobbits he recognized. One of them hailed him, waving him over with the promise of a half pint and a pipe full of Southern Star. Halfred found his feet heading in that direction when he recalled the reason for his visit to the Inn.

Instead he turned and seeing none of the staff about, headed toward the kitchen. He pushed the doors open quickly, startling Ruby and Buttercup who were busy arranging a platter of bread, meats, cheese, and pickle to offer round to the customers. Their eyes flew wide at the sight of him, and Buttercup drew back, wondering what horrid thing had happened now. Ruby plucked up her courage and stepped boldly in front of him, impeding his progress into the room.

‘Here, now! You’ve got no call to be sneaking up on us, scaring us half to death! Does Miz Prim know you’re here?’ He sputtered at her burst of words, as she went on. She fixed him with her dark brown eyes, standing hands on hips, foot tapping. ‘What are you here for Halfred?’

Halfred drew himself up, and looked at her in his most authoritative manner. ‘There have been some recent disturbances in the Shire of late, and I’ve come to sort them out with persons of interest who might have some knowledge of them.’

Ruby looked at him as if he were speaking some strange language. ‘Speak plain, Halfred Whitfoot. And don’t try to pretty it up with that legal gobbledy-gook!’

Halfred tugged at his collar, trying to dispel the growing sensation that he was about to choke. He was flustered and felt unnerved by this slip of a woman. Taking a deep breath, he blurted out, ‘The Man, Mithadan, I’ve come to question him, and his Elven wife, too, if she’s come back . . .’