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Al noticed that some people in the room were eyeing him queerly. The closest one was a hobbit lady, about his age, who appeared to be the server: she was collecting dirty plates. Before leaving, she took one last glance at him and muttered something that sounded like mean rim. Al gave her a curious look, but right away he turned back to the man across from him, because he began to speak.
"Well, what about Brandy Hall itself; its history, say. Starting with its founding, of course - I got an earful about who, but nothing too sure about when. I've got a bit of a timeline assembled for the history of the Shire, and I'd like to expand on it."
Al didn’t understand all of what the man told him. He decided not to make an issue of it, though.
“Well, as for who, that’s easy – old Gorbadoc Brandybuck, but you say you’ve heard enough about him. When... – who cares? What does it matter? It’s built, isn’t it? So why worry about these things? It’s the bestest place in the whole world, and that’s all you really need to know.” Al paused for a moment, and then added, “Could you please tell me, Master Hamwill, what is a timeline?”
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