"So how are things on the Plantation, Halfred," asked Sigismond cheerfully, as a Buttercup Brownlock brought him huge mug of ale, obviously compensating for his large hands and frame.
"Oh, they go on as always," said Halfred. "It's definitely been a good season."
"There's a rumor, though, Halfred," said Sigismond, moving closer and speaking in a lower voice, as though this was a secret, "that you are planning on expanding your business."
Halfred sucked at his pipe, removed it from his mouth, and blew a somewhat disfigured, though what definitely looked like a white smoke ring. "Bah," said Halfred, "I was much better at this sort of thing when I was in by tweens."
Asphodel, who had turned her head for a moment, observing people coming in and out of the wooden Inn door, twisted back around just in time to get a face full of smoke. She felt as though she had just swallowed ash, and began coughing vigorously.
"Oh, I'm very sorry, my dear," said Halfred, as he used is hand to clear the rest of the smoke away. Tolman laughed.
"Good shot, uncle," he said to Halfred. "I could not have done it better myself."
Asphodel, who had momentarily gotten better, made a sour face at her cousin. "Such a gentleman, he is," she thought. So he had been called by many of the Shire Hobbits. So he was, at least to the adults and to small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls. But to those his own age, especially his own kin, he was a very rascal. A master of pranksters, whenever he could manage it. He was never mean, but he was not one to be reckoned with. That was not the worst part, however; the worst part was that no one, especially the elders, believed you when you said he did those things.
Asphodel didn't hold it against him. Not much, anyway. He was not putting on airs; he really did respect adults and small children, but he knew who he could have fun with. And he was fun indeed. When he and Asphodel were small, he had been the leader of the pack. He always had come up with the best ideas and adventures to have. He certainly had a streak in him, did the gentlemanly Tolman.
"Come, Tom," was all his uncle said to him. "Have pity on your cousin."
<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:22 PM February 04, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]
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