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He could not say that The Pony had changed much. The paint looked a little fresher on the sign above the entry arch, the faces of the serving girls had changed some, grown older and a little warier, he thought. Butterbur had retired, he learned from the stableboy. His son, just as fat and forgetful, the stableboy confided with a laugh, now followed in his father’s footsteps.
Standing on the wide verandah of the Inn, Veryadan shook the dust from his cloak, watching, in a casual manner, the ebb and flow of patrons. Men, the lot of them. A brief glance in the front window threw the faces of other men into relief from the blazing fire on the hearth and the hanging lamps scattered about the beamed ceiling of the common room. Veryadan looked round at his Elven companions, wondering what stir the entrance of four of the Fair Folk would bring. ‘Won’t know ‘til the deed is done,’ he thought to himself.
With a smile and nod to the ladies he pushed open the door, entering first for a quick survey of the premises. The others of his companions followed closely on his entrance. Heads turned from their pints to see the faces of those whose bright, melodic voices preceded their presence. Conversation lulled for brief moment; chair legs scraped along the wooden floor as those in the back twisted round on them for a look-see. Following its natural short-lived course, interest in the companions waned, mugs returned to eager lips, and the low hum of conversation and laughter picked up again.
Among those, though, whose eyes continued to follow the Elves and the men with them, were two Rangers sitting together at a table across the room from the entrance. And there in the shadows of a dimly lit booth, the rat-faced visage of some man darted quickly in and out of the low burning lamp that hung near him, his glittering eyes taking in the companions with calculating interest before withdrawing into the darkness.
‘Would you just see to getting us a table and rooms?’ Veryadan spoke low to Tarondo. ‘Let me join you in a moment. Make it a table to accommodate two more, if you will.’ He nodded his head toward the two Rangers. ‘I’ll see if they will sup with us. Perhaps they have fresh news they bring with them of happenings in this area.’
A few strides brought him to the Rangers’ table. One of them indicated a chair for his use as he approached. ‘Veryadan,’ he said, nodding to each of the men. ‘My companions and I were hoping you might join us for our meal. It’s been a long road from Minas Tirith to Bree. We would enjoy your company. And any tidings of this area you might have to share with us would be greatly appreciated. What say you? Shall we pull up extra chairs for you at our table?’
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