[Birdland]

The small, stocky figure with the long hooked staff stalked through the inky twilight towards the welcoming warmth and light of the Green Dragon. His small shadow stopped beside him and sniffed the air appreciatively. "Aye, old friend. a welcome sight - and smell, I'll warrant. Worth a tramp half-way 'cross the Shire."

Elfred Thistle had been clear to Michel Delving, there to spend some time with his eldest daughter and his latest grandchild, a healthy girl, pretty as a spring lamb. Yesterday morning he had begun the long tramp back to Bree, spending the night in the comfortable roots of an old tree. But tonight, he would treat himself to something better.

The inn was packed to the rafters tonight, not only with his own folk, but a various assortment of Dwarves, Men, and Elves. Elfred was use to the first two; but even with all the long summer nights he had spent in the Weather Hills tending to his flocks, he had seldom spied any of the Fair Folk. A glimmer in the distance and they would be gone, as wary as any deer.

But tonight there seemed to be three or more of Elrond's folk in residence. They looked almost peculiar amongst the cozy grime of the Green Dragon, like colorful birds from the Southlands suddenly lighting in a Bree dovecote.

But it was not the Elves that made Elfred straighten in amazement and respect, but the tall, muscular Halfling that stood talking to Dwarin at the end of the bar. Dwarin looked up and spying his old friend as he entered the room, waved him over.

"Elfred Thistle! I had no idea you were in these parts again. Visiting that charming daughter of yours?"

"That I was. She has honored our family with a new addition, and I could think of no better place to wet the babe's head then here."

"Her ninth, is it?"

Nay, her tenth!"

Dwarin whistled in appreciation (and bemusement. Dwarves seldom produced the "litters" that Hobbit families seemed to require). "Well, we'll all raise a glass to the little one tonight, and many more. But first, allow me to introduce you. Master Took, meet Elfred Thistle of Breeland, famed shepherd and bane of all wolves. Elfred, Bandobras Took, known to all as 'The Bullroarer' "

Elfred tipped his hat, bowed his head and muttered "at your service, Sir". The younger son of Thain Isumbras II was known throughout the West Lands. Elfred had never found himself in such distinquished company.

Bandobras raised his glass and replied "at your service, and well met, Gaffer. Here's to the health of your grandchild." And with that he raised his mug and drained it without breath. Slammming it on the bar, he cried to Dwarin "Another, good dwarf, and the same for Master Thistle!"

Dwarin turned back with two mugs, saying to Elfred "Would you like your usual room Elf? And Miss Violet has made a noble stew tonight, as well as the hardiest bread in the Three Farthings."

The shepherd took a long draw from his mug, raised his glass to Bandobras in thanks, and said "Aye, two bowls of stew, Dwarin, and a cold bowl of water for my friend."

"Where is Nop, then? Not like him to not come and greet his old mate Dwarin." The two peered around, finally spotting the slinking black and white form of the small collie, touching noses with a massive, shaggy white dog under a far table - who seemed to belong to an equally massive feminine species of Big Folk. The two dogs sniffed each other intently, still deciding whether they would be friends for life, or start a mighty donnybrook in the middle of the Green Dragon patrons.

The bar was noisy, but all it took was one quiet "Nop. By me, Sir" to bring the collie whirling and trotting to the feet of his beloved master.

"Well done, Nop. Are you ready for your feed then?" And Nop wagged his tail, as eager as any Hobbit to dig into Miss Violet's famous stew.

Dwarin chased two young Brandybucks away from a table and seated his friend in the cozy booth by the fire. Then Elfred, with Nop curled in a heap at his grey feet, settled in to enjoy the passing show at the Green Dragon, his second home.