'At the Sign of the Prancing Pony' (Every Friday; 2:00 & 7:00 PM)

The smell of pipeweed and the sound of merry laughter drifts from the open door of the Inn of the Prancing Pony. It is a Highday, and like every Highday, Barliman Butterbur has opened his  common room to guests from lands near and far to sample his beer in exchange for coin, conversation, and a promise 'not to go up into thin air, thank you very much!'

This week's (December 20, 2024) hook: 

Yule-tide has come! As is tradition at the Inn of the Prancing Pony during this time of the year, Barliman Butterbur has festooned his common room with holly and mistletoe, and laden his tables with roast beef, pudding, parsnips, sprouts, and plenty of honey wine and beer, nevermind Nob’s famous plum pud!  

On this Highday of feasting, no guest leaves Barliman’s house hungry, and even fewer leave it sober! Bree-folk and travelers alike all wisely take advantage of the Pony’s generosity (‘Half a penny for beef, pud, and drink!’ one hobbit at the Pony’s door can be hard saying. ‘There’s Yule magic under this roof tonight, and I won’t have it said otherwise!’)—yet all are keen to repay that generosity with gifts of their own to Barliman, Nob, and all who keep the Pony plodding on.

Yet despite feelings of goodwill and cheer, many a visitor to the Pony on this day cannot help but feel that there are more empty chairs and tables than ever before. To say nothing of the draft that freezes the common room! 

When asked about these changes, Barliman can only shiver: ‘Poor Nob, the wooly-footed wimp! Won’t go out of doors to fetch the old folk and the poor nor fuel for the fire neither, as well you and I know he would be most happy to do! Always been a great help during Yule, our Nob. Not this year though! No, sir! Not been the same since that business with the wolves, Nob hasn’t. And can’t say I blame him! “Wolves in Bree?” I told him when first he told me. “You’re telling tales, you little rascal!” “No, sir,” Nob told me. “I saw them, clear as day. Big and toothy, too!” “Dear, oh dear,” I thought then, as “Dear, oh dear” I well think now! So, no sir: no great big blazing fire tonight, and the guests will be a little sparse, if you’ll excuse us… as I’m sure you can find it in that great big heart of yours to do!’