[Novnarwen]

Brottle stumbled up the stairs reaching for the oak door. As he opened it, he entered a whole new world. The Inn was quite full, considering this time a day, he thought while stepping forward to the desk. "I'll need a room," he said while looking with great eyes around. "How many nights?" the woman asked, while finding one of the golden keys. Brottle turned around and stirred into the eyes of the young lady.

"That's a hard one," he muttered without her hearing it. "I'll need a room for this night," he said. "And, the night after that, and the next, and the next, and the next, and probably the next there again," he continued watching Aman's face, full of surprise. "You know what? Just keep the key and when you are out of here, I'll count how many days you have stayed," she said determined. Brottle nodded, took the key and asked for an ale. "A pint, if you have," he added.

Few moments later he settled himself on a stool. Clumsy as he is, he spilled some of his precious ale on the table while seating. Brottle stuck his tounge out and licked the reddish liquid from the table, to great disgust from his fellow drinkers. The hobbit, decided to ignore them, and gave them a what-are-you-looking-at? look.

He thought of the wonderful morning, how his day had started; his wife on the market, him drinking their finest ale in the house, smoking their finest pipeweed, and then all had just fallen apart.

He remembered himself lloking out of the window, wacthing the white clouds move and creating new non-stop. The blue sky was filled with singing birds and it all was so great. Brottle had felt great. Then, the harmony, which Brottle had wanted to last forever, was ruined. The door had opened with a big slam, and therein, came his wife. Catching him when he at least had wanted it; sitting in his chair, being lazy, when he was supposed to do somthing else. The skies had suddenly turned black. And the heavy clouds were about to explode. The rain fell as hard as the hoofs of a horse, galloping in great speed. "Brottle!!" she had shrieked eyeing him being lazy, once again.

The poor hobbit hadn't had any escape, it was only to wait for his doom. It had been much worse this time than the the time before. He was actually kicked out now, was he ever to live with her again?

Brottle drank the last remaning gulps of his ale, sighing when his drink had come to its' end. It ran down, reached his beard and then to his stomach, which stood like a big ball on him. I better check out the room, he thought, setting the now empty mug hard down on the table. He stood up, paced to the staircases leading to the rooms, grabbed a hold of his pocket to lift up the keys.

The pocket was empty....