The heavy thud of a large tankard trembled the old, wooden table where the lone figure was sat. The sound did not impress anyone in the vicinity, as the Prancing Pony inn was packed full of boisterous, jabbering townsfolk and travelers; a typical summer evening. The windows were propped open, the fires doused in favor of torches and candles along the walls, but the air hung heavy and balmy, even at midnight, and the merrymaking showed no signs of waning.
The man sitting alone had his back to the crowd. With a shrug of his massive shoulders, he threw off the stifling heat of his traveling cloak, draping it over the bench beside his wide frame. The gloves came off next, and were laid atop the cloak. "You there, Master Hobbit," he rumbled as a stout little fellow passed the table, balancing a tray of mugs. "Got anything cold to drink on a night like this? This ale's warm."
"Oh! Begging your pardon, sir," puffed the harried hobbit. "I'll check and see, of course! Hard to keep up with this weather, I know it all too well!" He wobbled slightly, quickly bracing both hands beneath the overloaded tray. "The stuff in barrels upstairs won't do for that, but I'll fetch you a fresh one from the cellar!" He scurried off again, yelling as he went, "Nice and cool down there!"
The man dragged his thick fingers through the wild mat of rust-colored hair sitting atop his head, before tugging at his collar, hoping to catch even a tiny whiff of a breeze along the sweltering lines of his torso. Sighing in surrender, he twisted about on the bench, eyeing the rest of the room, hoping to find a distraction from the sweat beading along the line of his mustache.
A serving-maid's high, lilting laugh drew his attention, and his eye. She was sitting on the lap of a fellow at a nearby table, her head tossed back as she giggled. Her dress was already pulled low on her shoulders, and her sweaty, honey-colored locks clung to her rosy cheeks. A pretty creature, she was, and he allowed himself a few seconds to simply enjoy looking at her. It was only after those few seconds had passed, and he was still staring, that he realized she reminded him of someone else. The hair was a few shades too dark, and her eyes were brown rather than blue, but still, the memory was stirred.
He turned his eyes away when the girl caught his glance and flashed him a wide, toothy smile.
Why had he returned to this rustic, one-horse town? He knew the answer, though his lips would speak of dealings, coin, and trade, if one were to ask him his business in Bree. And those reasons were true enough, he mused, as he pounded his fist gently and repeatedly on the tabletop, waiting for his next drink. But they were not the whole story. He'd already heard it confirmed from happily chatting passersby as he lurked about the inn that day.
She was married now. Of course she was. Beyond being the sweetest beauty he'd ever laid his aged eyes on, she was in possession of a spirit as lovely as her face and figure. A girl like that would never be without a suitor or two, and to have expected to find her still alone, almost a year after parting ways, was foolishness in every way. But he'd made a promise, and now he'd seen it through. He'd returned as he'd vowed, though he hadn't seen her himself, and now, he couldn't decide if he hoped to or not.
"Here you are, my good man!" chirped a small voice by his shoulder, and a full, frothy tankard was carefully set down by the man's hand. He took it up and gave it a testing sip, immediately sighing loudly in relief, for it was indeed, cold.
"Well done, my little friend," the man replied in his rolling, bass timbre, reaching into his pocket and handing the hobbit a silver coin. The little fellow's eyes went as round as saucers, and he bobbed his head repeatedly, stammering out what thanks he could manage, before hurrying away amid the red-bearded man's jovial laughter.
"Drinking alone, sir?" chirped a light, musical voice. A hand was laid on his upper arm, and as he turned to the sound, a soft, round hip pressed against his thigh as the pretty serving-maid sat down, facing out towards the room.
"As you see me," he replied, hoisting the tankard slightly.
"Care for a bit of company then?" she asked, leaning her elbows on the edge of the table, accentuating her shapely little chest. "I could bring you something to eat. If you're hungry, that is." Her chin tilted down, her eyes angled up, peering at him through her lashes.
The hulking man turned a kind smile to her.
"Off with ya, lass."
