[HerenIstarion]

Next morning, not contrary to what Old Toby had to say about the matter, dawned with the promise of a fine day. Soft south wind came to case away curtain of clouds, so menacing and heavy just the day before. It was an hour when the dark starts to give way to another day, when birds are already twittering, but men haven’t yet gathered guts enough to slip off the warmth of their beds and start another day. The dew, memory of yesterday’s rain, covered the backyard, where squatty frame of someone could have been seen, someone stealing to the stables, someone looking over his broad shoulder now and again. If the onlooker would have come closer, he would become a listener as well, as said someone was grumbling under his breath

‘They love beasts, do they? Drat, why should my horses bother them? ‘they are no less tired, Sir!’, ‘it is not trouble for the stablemaster, Sir’ ! Pshew!. To heck with both, now I’m risking be caught stealing back my own horses. And this grass is wet, drat it, and my boots warned through’.

Now, as he came nearer the stables, the grumbler slowed the pace and exhibited even more caution in his progress

‘But why am I worrying, anyways? What do they have for guards? Band of wooly-footed wossnames, I should not be scared of them, should I?. Steady now…’

The figure approached the stable door and cautiously tried it. It squeaked as it turned on it hinges, causing the whole splash of angry but muffled mutterings and turning of the head, but nothing untoward happened, and the figure slipped into the stable.

There, in the warmth that only presence of horses may cause, in the dim light of the dawn, three gaunt horses could be seen. They were huddled together, as if shying two steeds of wonderful beauty and might, which stood a little apart from Southerners starved beasts.

‘Well, well, well’ muttered the intruder. “Those two are as fine horses as king of Forgoil himself may boast of. Hmm-m, why not? The will make a fat taking at the fair in the town by Evendim. But how early does that Merry of a stablemaster get up?

He looked over his shoulder in sudden fright, than, reassured by quiet outside, looked at the horses with an eye of a jobber once again

‘Well, well, first things first, where are those fools dawdling? I need a hand with my own carts first!’

As he growled that, a somebody shoved his head into the door and called in a hushed whisper: ‘Dublong! Dublong! Are you here?”

“Where else could I be, d’ya think? Are all of you there?

“Yes, all are…’

‘Then drive those billy-goats in’. Dublong was obviously better at yelling than listening. ‘We’ll need to lead the horses out quietly’

Dublong’s nephews came in, with some rags ready. With the speed which witnessed previous experience, they wrapped horses’ hooves in the rags to mute the clatter once horses would step outside straw-covered floor of the stable. With much caution, but as much creaking, the stable door was thrust open, and horses led out in file, where men quickly harnessed them into carts, standing not far from the stable entrance.

It took less than five minutes. Dublong’s wife and daughter climbed into the trimmest of the carts, as younger men went up to their dickeys, but Dublonge tarried, as if pondering.

‘Look, lads’ his voice was unusually tense and the wording less rude than usual, as if he were worried. ‘look, I’ve got some business to settle yet’

‘What business, uncle?’ started the elder of the brothers, but was immediately hushed by Dublong’s furious glance, whom, with the resolution, regained much of his rush.

With a short ‘wait here’, he turned back to the stable, and was just pulling at the door as he nearly bumped into a sleepy hobbit coming through from the other side.

“What? Oh, sorry, sir, I haven’t noticed you’ said the hobbit, whom Dublong recognized as yesterday’s stablemaster Merry. ‘Up so early? Are you leaving already? I see you’ve led out your horses yourself. You should not have troubled yourself, I would have had them ready, you have had only to warn the innkeeper, sir. Hope we haven’t caused you any inconvenience?’

‘No, no, no inconvenience…’ Dublong, caught at unawares, once again ran out of steam

‘Fine beasts you have there, I say, a bit bony, maybe, but that’d be the long road they toiled on, I reckon.’

‘Um? Ah, yes, poor beasts pulled us all the way up from White Mountains…’ Dublong tried to play up, silently cursing under his breath. There was no more chance of stealing beautiful steeds he’s seen in the stable. Greedy as he was, he valued his own skin better, and now only wished to get rid of Merry and run for it before other Inn staff appeared and difficult questions were asked. But Merry, though untimely aroused, was in a friendly mood and kept on chattering.

‘I’m not sure how far is to those White Mountains you refer to, sir, but it’s pretty a long road, judging by those horses. I gave them extra oats yesterday…

‘If he waits for a gift for his chariness, he won’t get any’ thought Dublong

But Merry exhibited expectation to be gifted, nor inclination to pause, and went on, as if compensating himself for the lack of sleep with the chance of wagging his tongue with a foreigner, probably coming from and going to some interesting places, which he himself wished not to see in person but would be really glad to hear about.

“I heard you travel North, are you, sir? They say that’s a mighty big town the Big Folk are building by Evendim. Have you been there before? Goodly fed as the horses now are, they won’t bring you further than North Farthing Stone, I reckon, you should better let them rest than. There is good grass up the Green Fields, they say, a little bit further North from the Stone, but in between you’ll need not worry about horses – I’ve stocked some oats into your carts yesterday evening…’

‘Er… thank you.’ was all Dublong managed to force out, overwhelmed by Merry’s vigor. He pondered, if, after all, Merry needed answering or it was better to let him ran out all by himself . . .