The Green Dragon

[doug*platypus]

"Who do you suppose is in charge of breakfasts around here?" asked Biffo.

"I had a feeling that Pio was running this place, maybe she could help you?" offered the Elf maid, Beruthiel, although from the sounds of it this was her first visit to the Inn as well.

"Yes maybe," Biffo replied, "I'll get some drinks and find out. What would you like?"

"Just some tea thanks," said the Elf. Biffo had the strangest feeling on hearing these words, some kind of deja-whatsit.

"Me too," added Belle. Biffo stirred from his reverie and wandered over towards the bar. Just then the innkeeper Pio arrived, and recruited Biffo and Belle into toast making duties.

There were great sounds of frying, cracking, crackling and general hustle and bustle coming from the kitchen. There were now six or seven helpers, Elf and Hobbit alike. Biffo was amazed at how quickly they had managed to stir up so much activity, and get the Inn back to a lively level of business. Many hands made light work. The two cousins handed out toast to all and sundry around the common room. Soon one of the Elves appeared from out of the kitchen.

"All right, who wants some breakfast?" she asked. Biffo was, true to form, first in line. He appropriated three decent-sized breakfasts as well as requesting a pot of tea. After the Elf had found out how much he owed for this and for last night's bill, Biffo counted out the coins and gave them to her with a few coppers extra. Although rich by no means, the last few weeks of work in the Southfarthing had left Biffo reasonably well off for now.

He took the trays of breakfast over, sausages, eggs and nice crispy bacon, then returned to the bar area to wait for their tea. Biffo noticed that the rough, grim warrior still stood in the middle of the common room, his cries for assistance so far unheeded. Biffo had listened with shock and dismay to his tale of the fight outside, and wondered why noone outside had rushed to stop it. The early morning noise in The Green Dragon meant that noone inside the common room would have heard rumour of it. This particular Hobbit was a Proudfoot through and through, and couldn't resist a little jab at the man, whose crazed look of pride was more disturbing than fearsome.

"You want the fastest way to Minas Tirith, sir? I'm sure the Shirriffs will be happy to drop you at the southern border. They'll be along any minute, once they spot a great fekking Elf body floating down The Water. Might even make you stay to bury the fellow, at the very least. If you want my advice, you'll leave before they catch up with you."

Warrior or not, the man was injured, and in any case unlikely to fight off the whole of The Shire on his own. The sooner the Shirriffs arrived, the better, thought Biffo. He had half a mind to fetch them himself - after breakfasts.

[ January 03, 2003: Message edited by: doug*platypus ]