[maikafanawen]

Even though the sun had begun to shine, and the rain stopped, Peony was wet and very hungry when she entered the Prancing Pony, walking in just behind Anson. Her shoulders sagged and her dress was sticking to the back of her legs from being so wet. Her hair however was neat. Tucked up underneath the small cowl, she had kept it pinned in a fashionable bun so it wouldn’t get soaked. There was a fire going in the fireplace across the room and smoke drifted towards them, as it was sucked out the open door. Finally all the hobbits were inside, ringing out their cloaks, and shaking their packs until they were only a bit damp. The other people in the Inn were either men or a few random elves. Every single one of them looked questioningly towards the peculiar group of travelers.

Anson spoke with the Innkeeper about their business and ordered a room for everyone. Most of the hobbits paired off to share quarters, but of course Peony was given her own, single bedroom. She had to be told twice however because she was amazed still at the size of the Inn, let alone the entire town.

“Peony?” Anson waved his hand in front of her face making her blink. “You’ll have your own quarters just down the hall from mine. Okay?” She nodded, still looking around.

“Do you think perhaps I could go for a walk or something?” Peony asked peering around the corner of the main counter into the common room, watching its inhabitants. Anson squinted his eyes in thought.

“It would probably not be such a good idea. Bree isn’t exactly a safe town, and the meeting will be starting shortly.” She didn’t hear his mumbled reply and walked back out of the Inn by herself before he finished. Anson made to go after her but Fredegar stopped him.

“Aw let her be. No one’s gonna harm a little hobbit girl, and she won’t miss anything.” Agreeing, though reluctantly, Anson walked into the common room with Fredegar.

Outside, Peony marveled at the size of the houses and different shops. There were so many. There was a butchery, a bread shop, a seamstress and tailor shop, a print shop, an apothecary, and many more all set up in tight rows along the street. What she marveled at most though was the stable. Inside were stalls and stalls of horses of all different colors: chestnut, snow white, copper, yellow, dark brown, and midnight black. They were twice the size of her father’s ponies at home. She could almost walk right under one without her head touching their stomach.

“Would you like to ride one?” asked a she-elf, who had just had hers untied. Peony stared for a minute then nodded yes ecstatically. “Alright, come on over here.” Ducking under the top part of the stall door to the other side where the elf stood, she turned and let the maiden lift her up onto her horse’s back. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down from her new perch.

“Wow … this is high!” Peony wove the hair on the horse’s mane between her fingers as the elf led him out of the stall to walk around the back yard ring. Giggling with delight, Peony straitened in her seat while ‘oohing’ and ‘ahing’ as the horse began to trot around the little ring.%