[Imladris]

Olo leaned against the cool stone of the bridge, took a swig of ale, puffed a smoke ring, and gazed at his mates in turn. Brass wasn't a bad fellow. Didn't need to expect any trouble from him. Why, the naieve hobbit didn't have enough wits to see through Bill Ferny. But that was alright, Olo thought with a scornful shrug. That just made it easier for him to manipulate ole Billy. He snorted in disgust as he took another swallow of ale. Bill would get burned one of these days. Olo smiled smugly: out of all his devious ways, he, Olo Underfoot, had never tasted the bitterness of defeat.

Turning his attention to Hob, Olo studied him carefully. That Hob...something wasn't that right about him, though he had plenty of good hobbit sense. Olo saw him fingering a piece of paper nervously. Climbing to his feet with a groan, Olo lounged over to him, and said, "Eh, what you got there, mate?"