[Arry]

From under his halo of fragrant smoke, Alwin kept one eye on the doings in the Inn. Jack’s attention was focused on the second helping of apple tart, he noted and much ado was being made about the group that had come in just recently. ‘Interesting lot,’ he thought to himself. ‘Odd mixture though. Elf, Men, and Hobbit.’ He chuckled a little to himself at a sudden thought. ‘Well, perhaps not so odd, after all,’ he thought bringing up stories he’d heard in Minas Tirith from the Great War. ‘All they need is a Dwarf of some sort.’ He sighed, moving himself into a more comfortable position on the seat of his chair.

Jack looked up asking if there were something he needed, but Alwin said no and thank-you for the offer. ‘These old bones are getting a bit stiff just sitting here.’ Jack set down his spoon, asking if he could fetch the old man’s packet of herbs. He’d seen him use a pinch of some powder at times to ease the pain from too long a day on the road.

‘No, no. You just finish your sweet. Don’t mind me! I just need to get up and walk about a bit.’ He stood up from the table, nodding toward the group who’d come in. ‘I’ll go see who these adventurers are. Come join me if you wish, when you’re done.’

Buttercup passed near, carrying a pitcher of ale for the adventurers’ table. They’d been joined by another Hobbit or two and the atmosphere about the group was merry. ‘Mistress Buttercup,’ the old man said, reaching out to touch her on the shoulder. ‘I should very much like to meet those fellows and hear their stories. If I may, let me walk with you. And if you would, please introduce me.’ The serving lass slowed her step to let Alwin fall in beside her.