As he walked up to his new room, guided by a small hobbit (small even for hobbit-size), Dynaviir felt for the first time a bit too tall. He knew the inn had been built for hobbits, and that men from the East and South hadn't been expected when it was built. He turned a corner and stood in front of a small door. The hobbit opened the door, being in the way of the man, and turned to him and bowed low, bidding him farewell, then hurried off again, pushing himself close to the wall to make it past. He tried desperately not to show discomfort, and as he made it past he bowed low again, then scuttled off down the hall. Dynaviir stood watching him as he ran of, with a hint of a smile on his face, and then turned the handle and walked inside.
The room was larger than he had expected from the outside. It was a small room, with a fireplace facing the bed and many lamps scattered around, but it was as big as he could have hoped for and it felt comforting. It was filled with many strange artifacts, and he wondered if the guests before him had left gifts to entertain their successors in the room. The room itself was dressed in many colours, from the soft yellow on the walls to the strong and keen red of the carpet; the room seemed inviting, unlike any place he had seen in this homely place. The Shire held many great things, but up here he felt safe, as if the room itself was calling to him and willing him to stay.
He set down his cloak and bag on a stool to the right of the doorway. For the first time he closed the door behind him and found even the handle was warm. The room was free from dust and well kept. He glanced over at the fireplace and saw gladly no hint of red ember. Despite this, he knew he would need to light a fire tonight. The journey had made him cold and the ale had only warmed his heart, but he had ignored the fire below and hoped to find comfort elsewhere. Luckily the fireplace was small - to hobbit size - which was just fine for him.
Slowly he placed the sack down at the end of his bed. He turned to the mirror on his right and looked himself in the eye. Beneath his neck something seemed to bulge from his neck, but as he shifted his robes with his right hand it was gone again. He turned away, hoping the memory would stay out of sight. He turned now back again to go downstairs. He now felt hungry like he hadn't felt in a long time. He walked back downstairs, without removing the sheath from his belt.
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