[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"That bar maid is a nice lady," thought Asphodel to herself, "even though she is one of the big folk." She turned her eyes upon her father, who seemed not to have noticed that she had exchanged glances with the Big Folk barkeeper.

The lady barkeeper was the only woman, not of Hobbit decent, that Halfred did not object to being in the Shire, though his ill oppinion of the Big Folks was as staunch as ever. He was at first very sceptical. As he had once said to Pinto Goldburrow, "First a dwarf, and now a Big Folk lady at the Dragon! How is she even to fit behind the bar? No good will come of this, Pinto, mark my words." He had been correct in his assumption - to an extent. After the bar maid took over the Dragon, more and more Big Folk had come more often, occasionally disturbing the peace of the quiet Shire Folk. But no great evil was to be had from this, at least in Asphodel's eyes. Halfred had learned to put up with it, though Asphodel imagined that it was, perhaps, a greater evil to her father than it was to her.

Sigismond Proudfoot, who had stepped away momentarily to order some more ales, came back, to Asphodel's surprise, with three of them. She wondered if the third one was for her cousin.

"What's this, Sigismond?" asked Halfred, removing the pipe from his mouth. "Why, you have bought one too many ales."

"I haven't," said Sigismond. "I've got two for me." He patted his large belly. "I'm a big man, as Hobbits go, and I need twice as much as normal."

All Halfred said to this was, "As you please, Sigismond," though she could tell that he was not pleased. Not because Sigismond drank too much - no Hobbit would ever say that of anyone - but rather Halfred was a frugal Hobbit, and did not often waste money on more than he could consume.

Everyone was about to settle back down to their normal occupations: Tolman observing the different people in the Dragon, Asphodel sitting and staring at nothing, and Halfred going into the particulars of the weed plantation, when Sigismond let out a great laugh."

"Can't you good folks take a bit of jesting?" He asked. When no one said anything, as they were obviously confused, he laughed again. "I may be a big Hobbit, but I'm not greedy. Here," he slid one of his ale mugs across the table, slopping a bit of the dark brown liquid on the table, "the third ale's for young Tom. He's thirty-three now. About time he started acting like it."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:59 PM February 06, 2004: Message edited by: Linnahiril Tinnufinwen ]