Some distance away, a cart pulled into view. It was moving at a slow pace as if the driver was in no hurry (or perhaps it was the mule drawing the cart who was in no hurry). The cart was loaded with packages. The individual driving the cart could accurately be described as “stout.” Indeed, it would not be inaccurate to use the term “fat.” As a matter of fact, he was almost as wide as the bench he sat upon. This individual had a large brown beard spread over his knees. This was not unusual because this individual was a dwarf. He wore a simple blue tunic and at the moment looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep.
He roused himself and pulled the mule to a halt and then surveyed the scene before the inn for some moments. He looked so common and placid that nobody paid him much attention. The dwarf pulled out a small paper and read it. An expression of satisfaction appeared on his face. He opened a small chest beside him and pulled out a large package. Attached to the package was a large tag reading:
Entrusted to the Care of Fazi the Dwarf. To be Delivered to Hawthorne Brandybuck.
The dwarf flicked the reins to proceed to the inn. The mule did not move. Fazi flicked the reins again. The mule twitched its ear. Fazi let out a great sigh and climbed out of the cart. He walked to the head of the mule, seized the reins and tried to drag the mule forward. Several of those about the inn had noticed the commotion by this point and had taken it upon themselves to giggle quietly at the scene. Even after being dragged a few feet, he mule still refused to walk. The giggling grew louder.
The dwarf rolled his eyes and gave up. He turned and walked over toward his growing crowd of onlookers. “I beg your pardon,” he said politely, “I have a delivery to…er…deliver to one Hawthorne Brandybuck. I was instructed to bring it to her here. Does anyone know where she may be found?”
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