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Tarden nodded his head once cordially, and rapped on his thigh twice. Meglis got of his haunches, panting slightly, and he sidled up to his master. He nuzzled his master's thigh where he had tapped, and sat down again, waiting on the Man's word. Tarden bent down, and patted the dog affectionately. Meglis had been his companion for a good four or so years (Tarden didn't really know), having been sired in Rivendell from his last dog, Frodda. Frodda was interesting; he never learned to speak Westron, so Tarden was forced to speak the language of Rohan around him. But Meglis was ever more valiant than Frodda, and more loving towards Tarden.
He looked up at the hobbit. Not young anymore, but not old. Certainly middle-aged. He stood nearly three feet above him, and even Meglis was taller than he, but from what Tarden had seen of hobbits, he was about average, and by the cut of his coat, he looked a bit more well off than another hobbit. He set his bulky pack down, stood up, and spoke.
"Well," Tarden stated. "I suppose I should like a Man-sized room. Would you be Mister Boffin?"
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