[Kransha]

Toby Hornblower, the confused, annoyed, and now furious elder hobbit, scurried away like some rabid rodent with an eye for cruel vengeance. He sprinted as fast as short legs could carry him away from the small hobbit, who’d sent himself swiftly in the opposite direction, and towards the Green Dragon stable grounds. A new and pleasing smell, reminiscent of Longbottom Leaf, wafted through his rapidly sniffing nose and beneath his flaring nostrils, but he was too furious and bewildered to care about the seductive scent that, in any other situation, would’ve had him floating towards its point of origin.

“What in the Southfarthing was that all about?” He roared, more in anger than in query, as he bolted like very small and unstable lightning through the stable opening and towards the makeshift cot that was set up for Snaveling at the other end. “Are you insane?” he bellowed, in the biggest and most commanding tone of voice he could muster, “You’ve ruined us! Worse yet, you’ve ruined me! What addled thought could possibly have been going through your thick skull when you said that?” He paused for a moment, his face bright red, his eyes narrowed in extreme irritation, and his ears and nose practically pouring forth an enraged steam that seemed to drift in an aura around his small, ovular head.

Tobias Hornblower raised a hand, with index finger extended, almost scolding the man twice his size. He continued, trying in vain to control the emotion. All of his hobbit’s innocence had evaporated, leaving only a cold hard fury at having this man, who he thought to be more adept at thieving and lying than he, break down before him. Surely Galadel and Roa would guess what had happened, as cunning as they were, and he would be found out. The weakness of Snaveling had condemned both him and his accomplice.

“What purpose had you in that? Make all clear immediately, Snaveling, or I will unveil your foul actions to all without hesitation. Speak now!” His voice managed to lower. He finally realized the quality of the words he was spewing so carelessly. One hobbit should never challenge such a man, as his father had told him. But it was said, and he still desired an answer, or he would go through with what he had said he would. Toby stood firm, stable on his own two feet, in front of Snaveling. It had finally come to his attention that Snaveling didn’t look entirely well, though he couldn’t tell in earnest because the taller man was turned away from him.