|
Penny
Penny’s eyes were big as saucers at the goings-on in the common room. She watched as the Big Folk drew apart from each other – one to a table by the fire, one to step outside, the last keeping put at the bar. The toast she’d spread thick with blackberry jam now lay forgotten for the moment on her plate.
Leaning forward as to be nearer the elder Hobbit, she whispered as quietly as she could. “Are there always so many of the Big Folk hereabouts?” She picked up a piece of bacon and munched on it, absent-mindedly. “And are they always so . . . so, well, cranky and out of sorts?” She waved the crisp bacon at the gaffer, drawing back a bit, her voice going back to a more normal level..
“Comes from not keeping your tummy full, my gran would say. Twists you up inside if your insides don’t have something to work on.” She nodded her head, remembering her gran had firm opinions on just about everything.
Penny looked over toward the Big Folk still remaining in the room. She took another bite of bacon and mumbled around the crumbly bits. “Personally, I think it’s those boots they wear! Can you imagine walking about with feet all smunched in and your toes all pushed together?”
From a table nearby, one in the corner, she heard a voice. Another of the Big Folk, his question hanging in the air. "Would anybody happen to have something to write with?"
Penny excused herself and drew closer to the man. “Well, ummm, sir,” she said, standing out of arms’ reach. “It’s not much, but it works fine for making lists and such.” She fished about in her skirt pocket and drew out a stick of hard charcoal, most of it wrapped in yarn, its end ground somewhat to a point. ‘Can you use it?’ She held it out tentatively.
|