Elfred raised his mug in greeting as young Ardo Longbottom marched into the inn, obviously on official Shirriff's "bizness", his badge of office waving in time to his officious strides.
Normally Elfred had little good to say about the Shirriffs of the Four Farthings; "Bunch of Cock-Robins they are, strutting around trying to find something to do, putting on airs while the real working-folk of The Shire take care of their own problems."
But Ardo was a good sort, in his way, and on more than one occasion had looked the other way when Elfred had bedded down in a farmer's haymow to save the price of a bed.
After Ardo had stated his business and left, refusing all offers of "one for the road", (most unusual for a Shirriff), Elfred gave Nop a friendly nudge with his toe and commented "Adventures? What next? Adventures are for those who don't have to work for a living. If you've lived as long as I have, you learn that adventures come to you, and seldom are they welcome. A body shouldn't have to go looking for them. 'Adventures'. Fie! They'll have all the young bucks round here riled up, traipsing off like that Mad Baggins, with announcements like that!"
Elfred was having all the adventures he wanted just sitting and watching the passing scene at the Green Dragon. A dashing, yet strangely seedy-looking Elf had been plying his wiles amongst the fair Elf-maids. A group of Rangers had come from the wilderness, settling in a corner and keeping their business to themselves. Then, wonders of wonders, a Dwarf-woman actually entered the bar seeking employment. One did not often see the female kind of Durin's folk (actually, Elfred had never seen one before.)
None of this impressed Nop in the least. The sheepdog had lain under the table, never responding to the tales and songs floating around him, except for the twitching of his paws as some air entered his dreams.
But suddenly, the black, shaggy head raised up, and the little collie flipped upright, sniffing the air and uttering a deep, low growl.
"Nop, sirrah, what's to do?" Elfred asked with a puzzled look. The little sheepdog slinked silently over to the window of the inn. Putting his paws on the window sill, he looked out into the deep night, and again uttered a terrible, threatening snarl.
[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]
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