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Relieved to see that hobbit children seemed as bouncy and resilient as human children, and that the one he had almost squashed was no worse for the wear, Jims proceeded in to the warmth of the common room, swinging his sopping cloak from his shoulders. Spying a row of wooden pegs in the wall next the fireplace on the far wall, the young man strode over and hung the dripping garment up, pitying whichever of the staff would be responsible for mopping up all the mess. He had noticed another traveler, well wet and smattered with mud, entering the inn right on his heels. The Golden Perch was beginning to look more like a Muddy Toad by this point.
Turning his back to the heat of the crackling fire, Jims turned an appraising eye on the large, comfortable room. A long bar ran along the wall to his left, behind which were stacked - to the ceiling - casks! This looked very promising for a start to Jims' commission from his father. Hopefully whoever tended this inn would be able to put Jims onto the hows and wherefores of how he could best arrange the purchase and shipment of some of Stock's fine ale to their somewhat down-at-heel inn in Bree. A middle age hobbit was at that moment behind the bar serving up a mug of drink to another human, the one who had entered the inn just behind Jims, in fact.
Walking over to the clean and well polished bar, Jims' naturally taciturn nature prompted him to take a seat a few spaces down from the other newcomer. The barkeep was just asking the stranger a polite question about his travels, and Jims smiled to himself. How many times had he asked just the same type of question, engaged in the same small talk to make a customer feel at home and welcomed? And in return, how many tales, tall or small, had he been regaled with? The blessing and bane of an innkeeper's life, that - often being the first to hear the latest news of far off places, or even the breaking village gossip, but also having to feign interest in and smile at some of the most boring ramblings, recollections and out and out lies of those travelers who thought they knew how to spin a yarn. Well, with the steady loss of business his father's inn had seen over the past year or more, they could ill afford not to count even such as those a blessing, bringing as they did their few small coins in exchange for the sparse lodgings and simple fare their inn offered.
This particular barman was quick and observant, Jims noted with approval, and as Jims took his seat, the hobbit nodded to him, a questioning look on his face.
"A cup of ale, if you please, master hobbit. When you have a moment" Jims thought he had best sample what was on offer first before deciding on the next step in his quest.
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