The Seventh Star Inn

[Groin Redbeard]

Groin’s short, broad, dwarf stature helped him to enter the inn unnoticed. So this is what it’s like in Gondor, he thought to himself. Normally he wouldn’t travel this far south, out of the borders of the Shire and Rohan, but he had heard Little Man Poet’s stories and he could not help but to come and give his best wishes to the noble bard.

He surveyed the inn and its guests; he spotted Durelin, who he knew, talking with some strange folk. He stared in awe at the trees that moved, drank, and even talked. This certainly was a queer country.

He unfastened his weather stained cloak, which had faded from a deep forest green to a grayish color, and placed it on a hanger. His mail shirt glittered in the light as he walked up to the bar for ale, but he stopped when he had sighted the guest of honor surrounded by a host of people, who were all congratulating him. Groin chuckled to himself, continued to the bar and grabbed a mug.

“Here’s to Little Man Poet,” he said to the bartender, and raised his mug, “May his superb writing talents grow even more in the company of the esteemed loresmen of Gondor!” And having toasted LMP he drained his mug.