[Phrim]

It was a pleasant day for a stroll in the Shire: blue skies, a slight breeze, not too hot and yet not too cool. The birds in the trees were chattering merrily, taking no heed of the plump little figure below making his way slowly but surely down the road. A curious figure he was, his gait buoyant, his face jovial, his little brown eyes shining at everything his vision touched. Atop his head sat a shock of unruly hair, curls going in every direction; mostly brown it was, but with a tinge of grey. The ambling hobbit was dressed for travel, at least as much as a hobbit ought to be dressed up for such things, and was humming to himself faintly.

Unheard to the distant birds, but quite the cacophony to the poor little hobbit, was the rumbling of a stomach. It was nearing time for the noontime meal, and not having eaten since his rather large breakfast, the hobbit was quite hungry indeed. Fortunately, the quaint little town of Bywater was on the horizon, with its renowned inn, The Green Dragon, noted for its fine ale, wholesome food, and good company. Upon seeing an end to this leg of his journey, the hobbit quickened his pace, and shortly arrived at the bustling inn.

The inn was noisy, as inns ought to be, and filled with a diverse clientele: mostly hobbits filled the room, but there were also a good number of men as well as a few dwarves hidden in a dark corner. A dutiful servant to his stomach, our hobbit made no delay in finding a table and flagging down a barmaid. "Name's Tad, Tad Bushytop," the hobbit said to the serving-lass, "I'm not late for lunch, am I?"

"Not at all, Mr. Bushytop, you're just in time," replied the barmaid. "My name's Ruby, by the way."

"You can call me Tad, if you please," Bushytop said amicably. "Could you get me an ale while I'm waiting, m'dear?"

"Right away," said Ruby, as she headed back to the bar area.

As Ruby left, Bushytop reflected on his trip ahead. Not often did he make the journey down to Frogmorton; any hobbit of the Shire knows that traveling from Waymoot to Frogmorton was more than an lazy afternoon's stroll. But it was time for the annual family summer-party, and the parties thrown by the Bushytops of Frogmorton were not to be missed. It would be even more festive this year, Bushytop noted, for his niece Laureli was finally getting married. It would be a grand time, he decided, the best party he'd been to in years. If only Frogmorton were a bit closer...

Ruby returned promptly with his ale, and Bushytop turned to her and said, "Say Ruby, have you heard of Laureli Bushytop?"

"As a matter of fact I have, Mr. Tad," Ruby replied. "I've got some cousins out in Frogmorton. Say, isn't she getting married this weekend?"

"That she is, Ruby m'dear, she's my niece," Bushytop said, beaming with pride.

"Oh, you must be heading out to the party!" Ruby exclaimed. "I'm so jealous; that party has been the talk of the tavern."

"That I am, m'dear, that I am," said Bushytop delightedly.

"Well, your food will be right out, Mr. Tad," said Ruby cheerfully, and she headed back into the kitchen.

Talk of the tavern, eh? And out here in Bywater, too. Bushytop knew that little Laureli was a popular girl, but this was just too much. He was doubly sure his trip to Frogmorton would be worth it this year, as long of a walk as it may be. Caught up in his daydreams about the good folks and bountiful food that would be at his niece's wedding, Bushytop's current hunger was almost pushed into the back of his mind. Almost.

"Boy, am I hungry," Bushytop said to himself.