[Saurreg]

It took Andas Loudewater longer than expected to reach the bar. The serving hall was so crowded that he had little choice but to push and shove his way through the masses of warm reeking bodies, raising surprised yelps and curses, rich with local favors from the recipients. By the time he reached his destination, tiny beats of sweat were trickling profusely down his shiny forehead.

Prand Adams beckoned Loudewater towards him and pointed to at an empty bar stool which Andas promptly introduced his arse to.

“Hey Andy,”

“Hi Prand,”

“Trouble with the missus?”

“What else?”

It wasn’t so much of a question but rather a matter-of-fact statement. Loudewater scratched his backside and shifted his weight on the stool so that he was in a more comfortable position, he then raised his left hand index finger towards the innkeeper to catch his attention. The innkeeper nodded in acknowledgement and rumbled towards the duo.

If there was such a thing as Loudewater’s bosom buddy, Prand was it. The two farmers have known each other since childhood and as far as the former could recall, Prand had always been there for him and he was like the suave and world-wise older brother Andas never had. Prand had always been good to Andas, Prand had always had the hapless (in Mister Adams’ point of view that is) Loudewater’s best interests in mind, which was coincidentally, why he introduced his distant cousin, a certain Miss Helga Ofella to Loudewater in the first place.

Both men had since rued the day that in drunken stupor, Prand offered to play match-maker and the equally intoxicated Loudewater readily agreed.

“Lenny’s here too. He’s at the floor talking to some eastsiders,” Offered Prand nonchalantly.

Loudewater merely grunted in reply. He never liked Lenny the carpenter.

Butterbur II was pushing fifty and looking more and more like the old man each day. He was also well on his way in dwarfing his father in girth. The bubbly innkeeper came to a halt behind the bar and faced Loudewater. His robust, protruding belly signaled its own arrival with a fierce attention grabbing “nod” when his master stopped abruptly.

Butterbur Jr. smiled warmly at the west Bree farmer because he was a regular, then frowned when he realized that he couldn’t recall the latter’s name at the moment of time. Absentmindedness was trait in the Butterbur line. That was followed by the shrugging of very stout pudgy shoulders as the innkeeper decided to give his mind a break from the strenuous ordeal of name recollection. He turn reached under the apron (an exerting task for one of such physique) and produced a copper platter of moldy rye bread, obnoxiously foul-smelling cheese and some green stuff that had seen better days. Something very small and brown scrambled across the green stuff hastily. Butterbur Jr. cocked his eyebrows in mild surprise and assisted the refugee on its way with a flick of his pinkie that sent said uninvited one somersaulting through the air. Pleased with his dandy work, the innkeeper set the platter before loudewater with the full aplomb of a master chef unveiling his culinary masterpiece. Butterbur then beamed widely, gave Loudewater an affectionate pat on the head and went off to get the farmer a drink.

Loudewater raised his brows in thought and stroked the day-long stubble over his chin before giving out an very audible “hmmm” Prand had an amused look on his face.

*******
Loudewater surveyed the serving hall as would a raptor gliding high above in the sky, scanning the wide land below for its next meal. The bread was too sour for eating and the cheese was rather dry. But the green stuff was actually pretty good, tasted like chicken.

Loudewater caught sight of Fen Sheperdspurse in a dimly lit booth, narrowed his eyes with disgust and breathed in deeply as would a man trying to control his temper. As much as Loudewater disliked Lenny, it was nothing compared to the distain he had for the greasy headed mongrel. Loudewater remembered many a times how Sheperdspurse tresspassed on his property and stood leering as he toiled and how he had to stop work and wait for the loathed one to leave before feeling at ease again. Sheperdspurse had of course never done anything to Loudewater that warranted such strong detest, but the farmer had always nursed a weighty hunch against him, one that never really went away. Something deep in his mind told him never to let his guard down whenever Sheperdspurse was around.

There was an unusual couple that stood out like sore thumbs amongst the crowd of distinctive Breelanders; two exotic looking men. Both were clad in green traveler’s attire, exceptionally tall and from the looks of their dreadful arms, very dangerous. They were called the rangers and were thought of as dangerous gangsters or sorts until the day one of their kind became the king. Strider they called him, and since then the simple folks of Bree looked upon these strange formidable men with new eyes. It has been a while since Loudewater saw these dark haired men whom were rumored to have come over the sea from some enchanted isle and now there were two of them sitting together at a table. Loudewater could have sworn that he had seen the older man before sometime during the lost years of his childhood. But the man looked of the same age as him and was perhaps a few years younger. It was highly unlikely that he and that familiar face from the woods were one and same.

Unless he was of great longevity and no one lived that long. No one.

The oaken doors of the prancing pony creaked opened and six newcomers ventured in. The buzz of merriment and song died abruptly as all eyes turned upon them. Loudewater saw that Sheperdspure took a quick glance before slinking further into the corner of his dark booth as if attempting to avoid detection by the unfamiliar faces. The five newcomers were led by a man of the same built and features as the two rangers, but he was better groomed and cloaked in grey. There was another man just two steps behind him, slightly shorter, heavier built and crop of rich golden hair. This one Loudewater reckoned to be one of them horse-tamers from beyond the east mountains. His remaining four companions; two women and two men were strangely captivating and charismatic. They had such sharply defined, delicate features and bright piercing eyes that it was almost impossible not to be entranced by them. Just then one of the females, the shorter one pushed back a few strands of stray black hair behind her left ear and Loudewater saw that it was pointed. The four of them all had pointy ears.

Now this is interesting… mused Loudewater to himself as he continued to stare.