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Falco Boffin sat down against the wall, letting the bucket lie nearby. He had done what he could to help.
"The inconvenience!" he muttered to nobody in particular. "Here I am trying to pack and plan my way back home and somebody up and lights the stables on fire. Most inconsiderate. I could use a smoke."
It might have seemed to any of the Eorlings that wanting to smoke his pipe moments after a major fire had been put out, but to Falco it seemed just the thing. There were not many creature comforts that seemed right at home to the hobbit, here and the Eorling lands, so his own pipe would have to do. He reached in his pocket. It wasn't there.
"Now where did I last leave it?"
He traced back his steps, and with sudden horror realized that he had left them in the stables.
"Oh no! Lost for good!"
Just then he noticed Eodwine, Thornden, and Léof standing over Thornden's little brother. He got up and walked over to them.
"Eodwine, I fear my pipe has been lost in that there fire."
Eodwine looked down at him, his face set and grim. "I know. This boy started the fire with your flint." Eodwine turned to Thornden. "Take him home. You shall leave today."
Eodwine turned and trudged across the courtyard and into the Hall.
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