The Prancing Pony seemed to have recovered from whatever damage the doings of Saruman had caused in the area during the time of the War. In fact, with the roads slowly improving and trade stirring from the South and West, it had even shown some improvements. Mr. Butterburr had always taken pride in his inn, and was putting his new-earned wealth in a variety of repairs and improvements. Bird approved of the fine new feather bed and soft wool blankets on the sturdy bed.
"But where will you sleep, "husband"? said Bird with a grin as she bounced up and down on the bed, testing the tightness of the rope springs.
"What? And after I have just been through "birth" - Though second hand - you would consign me to a bedroll on the floor? I'll flip you for it..."
Later, as Bird settled into a cozy spot on the mantel (in Neekerbreeker form) and Mith settled with a sigh into the featherbed, the little skinchanger returned to the subject of Bill Ferny.
" 'Plantation', eh? From what I had always heard of that Ferny fellow, he seemed barely to have the skill or will to grow a spotty turnip, let alone an entire crop." Mith rolled over and gave a prodigious yawn, but Birdie ignored the hint and continued to talk in her squeeky, faint insect voice. "Just what do you suppose he grows on this 'plantation', Mith? And who is doing the growing for him?"
[ May 08, 2003: Message edited by: Birdland ]
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