Lotho had regarded the cheering hobbits with a cynical eye as they had left. Several of them had given him cold looks. He didn't blame them. They had been the not-too-happy customers of last year's leftovers from the harvest. All in all, Lotho was glad to get away from the Shire, and glad to get away from some of the unfriendliness.
Still, he felt important riding alongside the Bullroarer, who regarded the road ahead with a steady eye. He turned his attention to a hobbit ahead of him who was swinging a dead squirrel absent-mindedly in his hands (Carl Hoarwell, was it?) and rode up to him, feeling amused.
"All right there?" Lotho asked, his eyes twinkling slightly. "You look rather... " Lotho searched for an appropriate word. "...Surprised?" he finished.
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