Pulling the door to the Dragon open, a hobbit scurried in quickly. He was so used to duck around the Large Folk in Bree that it had just become second nature to move a bit faster than he would normally like. The pudgy halfling out of the way of the door took in a big breath of air as he gave the tavern a once over. The road from Bree to the Dragon had been tiring on his dusty feet and he leaned against the dark tavern wall to relieve them. If it hadn't been at the insisting of his mother, he would still be at home, lifting pints at the Pony. He rolled his brown eyes as his mother's crow like voice filled his head again.
"You 'aven't been to see your Aunt and Uncle in ages. They deserve more than one visit a season, you good for nothing." The grey haired woman had her moments of kindness, though those were as rare as elves.
"Well, why don' you go an' see 'em then?" The hobbit had countered.
"They asked to see you not me, Milo. Now go on, before you miss the Trader's cart!" She had said, ending further chance for argument. Well, he had missed the Trader's Cart and now he had a jolly walk to The Green Dragon where his Uncle would soon be meeting him.
The hobbit was altogether unremarkable. He had light brown hair accompanied with his ruddy skin and dark brown eyes. His hair hung on is head in a mess of curls, unable to be tamed. Wearing a bright yellow shirt with a dark green traveling cloak thrown hastily about his shoulders, Milo also wore a pair of brown breeches that now had several unfortunate tears from his walking excursion. They were held about his frame by a pair of brown suspenders. He was a bit thinner than most hobbits, something his mother was forever commenting on. The Dragon looked nearly the same as the last time he had come. It was still smaller and easier to navigate than the Pony at home. He smiled, even though he was miles away from home, a tavern was a tavern. Loosening the clasp on his cloak, Milo brushed a bit of the road dust that had accumulated on his shoulders that day. His brown feet walked toward the bar in a tired ambling sort of way. Milo opened the small pouch on his belt, fumbling for a minute, seeing if he had brought enough for an ale. He smiled broadly as he found several coins and his walk quickened a bit.
He took an open seat at the bar, not having to hoist himself up like at home. Milo scratched as his head as he patiently waited. He pulled a twig from his hair and chuckled, tossing the small bit of foliage away. Milo absentmindedly pulled out his coins and began to fiddle with them on the bar.
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