[Carrûn]

Awyrgan's dark features took in the new arrival in one sweeping green-eyed glance, watching briefly as she made her way to a table where several others sat and he then returned to his drink. He heard her introduce herself but payed little attention.

At the moment he was much more interested in the fairly large breakfast he had sitting in front of him. Mostly it was eggs and potatoes, but there was plenty of bread and meat as well.

He ate slowly, enjoying for a brief moment food which he had not had to kill and cook himself. As always, the Shire food was excellent. He was loath to admit it, but it was a major factor in his return. He swallowed an overcooked potatoe with the aid of his drink with some difficulty as he reflected on his next move.

He had still to make good on his promise to repay the Innkeeper for her generosity, and intented to keep his word. At the same time, he was in no particular hurry to end his free ride.

From his vantage point at the bar the weathered man could see around the doorway into the kitchen. There a cluster of persons held a conference. Awyrgan had a nose for trouble, and apart from it finding him, he was rather good at happening upon it himself. Besides, he thought to himself with some satisfaction, any half-witted invididual could see by their appearance that the issue being discussed is more serious than spilled ale.

He half raised his hand as a hobbit walked past him out of the kitchen, but let it fall without inturrupting her when he examined the look on her face. He chewed absently on a thumbnail, mulling the possibilities over in his head. He caught the eye of the Cook and quickly dropped it, not wishing to incurr any unecessary wrath. Shire or no Shire, cooks were cooks.