Raffles stumped through the staddle gate and down into Bree, his brow furrowed, carrying the general demeanour of a hobbit that has not only missed lunch and afternoon tea, but one who had now found out that his dinner has been burnt as well.
He hadn’t imagined the life of an adventurer would be quite like this when he set out from Stock on the long walk to Bree.
A young, somewhat flighty Hobbit, he had been inspired to take to the road in search of adventure… and as his heart was in the right place, despite the rather unfair reputation for unreliability he had acquired … the righting of wrongs. He wasn’t quite sure of the specifics around this, but it seemed appropriate to him, given the state of things today.
The reality had proven to be somewhat different, from being chased by a particularly large and angry bristlehide and having to take refuge up a tree until it lost interest, to getting lost in the midgewater marshes for most of the day whilst hunting neekers… and losing his hat in the process.
Then, when he had eventually made it back to Staddle, the final indignity… having several holes chewed in his brand new backpack by Eldo Swatmidge’s dog, who had caught the scent of his emergency sausage rations and couldn’t be pulled off in time.
It started to rain, pulling him out of his thoughts into the rather damp present… he missed his hat… and his sausages.
Arriving in the square at the centre of Bree by the townhall, he paused, his stomach urging him in the direction of the Pony for dinner, his swamp water soaked trousers in the same direction… albeit for a wash and change of clothes first.
However, a small kernel of stubbornness was growing inside him… he had enjoyed some parts of the day… he was sure he had… even if the exact details seemed to elude him right now… and he had actually been quite good at sneaking past those awful goblins…
His natural optimism helped his mind to quickly skip over the issues around map reading and sense of direction.
Besides, there was no way he was going back to Stock so soon… he could imagine the comments from the golden perch’s regulars if he turned up after a couple days looking like this.
Maybe he wasn’t finished with this adventuring lark yet. He eyed the outfitters while weighing his purse in his hand…
A new hat and repairs to the backpack would leave only enough coin for a light dinner, with the very real possibility of no supper to keep him going until breakfast… but his lodgings at the Pony (fortunately with breakfast included) were paid up for the rest of Thrimidge, and tomorrow was, rather obviously he thought, re-considering the old phrase, another day.
His stomach rumbled again, as if disconcerted at what he was considering.
Still, he reasoned, no need to throw the todays meals into total disarray by having dinner too late…
He set off with renewed purpose, to the Pony.
The outfitters could wait.
