[Folwren]

The rush for lunch was ebbing. There were fewer patrons in the inn now. Rowan was gathering plates and mugs from the tables and carrying them back to the kitchen. Seredic wiped the newly cleaned mugs just carried out from the kitchen and stowed them away beneath the counter.

“Goodbye, Andy,” he said to a departing customer, and then he looked at the last hobbit in the room. Mr. Alferad Brandybuck. He had not spoken to him since his initial arrival, and he had not been much impressed with the hobbit then. But Seredic made it a point to try to be friendly with customers, and it looked like Al was going to stay, so he put down the last mug, threw the cloth behind the kegs of ale, and came round the counter and approached the young hobbit.

“Will you be staying long?” he asked. “In amongst the rush there, I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask you. You’re from Buckland, if I’m not mistaken, though I don’t believe you ever said. . .”