[Undómë]

The trading had gone faster than he expected. His wares were gone, and his little wagon was filled with supplies needed back home. Hob’s purse, too was a little heavier with coin he had gotten for the finer objects. It had been a satisfying morning, and he planned to top it off with a mug of dark ale and a relaxing smoke by the Inn fire.

Strawberry plodded up the path to the Inn, turning right as she neared the front entryway to head for the stable. She, too, was ready to relax. Plodding along from shop to shop, stall to stall, was tiring in its own way, and she longed for the bridle and traces to be taken off and some sweet hay to plunge her nose into.

Hob left his pony to the stableboy, and secured his wagon beneath the stables eaves, lashing down the canvas covering over his goods. A few steps brought him back to the front door. And only a few more got him to a table near the fireplace. He settled in and caught the eye of a passing server. ‘Ale, please, he said. The dark.’ He watched her scurry away as he fetched his pouch of pipeweed from his vest pocket and began to fill his pipe.