The light of day was finally fading, the longer spring months meaning it was evening by the time it eventually came, and through the muddy streets of Bree-town plodded a great big draft horse with a man dressed in simple garb upon his back, just able to get into town before the gates were closed for the night. The horse followed the Road, coming to a stop where it swept to the right to go round the foot of the hill where the inn resided.
Owler looked towards the familiar building, smiling at the warmth that it brought to his heart as remembering the few evenings spent drinking in them, and the faces he had met over the time. The sign was creaking in the gentle breeze and the door propped open with a bucket filled with soil, to allow some wind to flow through the building to try and cool it as the months were getting warmer. Golden light streamed out, as it did from the windows, and the raucous laughter and singing was as loud as thunder.
He climbed from the saddle, and left the large horse standing in the yard, stepping the stairs to lead him into the inn’s kitchen where Owler was met with a portly man, with a red face and a bald head, sweat trickling down his nose; a plate in his hand covered in tankards.
“Half a minute, if you please!”, said the man as he walked into the main room and went behind the counter top, setting the mugs down for local farmers and workers. Owler followed behind, and waited on the other side of the bar with a smile. “What may you be wanting, master?”
“A room for the night, and a stable for my horse, outside he is, Mr. Butterbur.”
The Inn keep nodded as dabbing his forehead with a rag used for wiping down the bar, and he shouted out. “Nob! C’mere! Nob!!”
A cheerful hobbit came from the kitchen, rolling pin in one hand and half a pint in the other. “Yes, Mr Butterbur, sir!?”
“Go find Bob to get the horse in the stable and get a room for the night ready for a Mr…?”, Barliman looked to the farmer, who was standing there waiting.
“Howel, sir, or Owler by most, Owler Carter.”
“For a Mr Carter, staying for one night! Go now!”
With a quick nod, Nob scurried off outside the ajar door to find his brother, Bob, who was busy filling some buckets with water for the horses and ponies. Owler caught another glimpse of Nob, as he stepped back in and disappeared down the back.
“You’ll be wanting supper, Mr Carter?”, the innkeep asked, though he got a shake of the head in return.
“No thank you, Mr Butterbur, I ate plenty before I arrived in town, but a pint of ale will do well, yes.”
“Right you are, Mr Carter!”. The portly man waddled off for a few minutes, and returned back with a pint in his hand, the froth on top dribbling down the side of the over filled tankard, setting it down with a slosh onto the countertop. “That’ll be… seven silvers, sir, for the ale and the room!” The innkeep smiled as he was handed the required coin, “Go find, Nob, and he’ll show you to your room, have a good night, Mr Carter!”
Owler took his ale and trailed off down the back, escaping the throng of noise and songs of the locals as they smacked the tables and smoked their pipes. He found the hobbit outside a room, just closing the door.
“Ah! Mr Carter! Here be your room, sir, just as requested, and Bob is putting your horse into the stables as we speak! If you need anything, just shout!”
The hobbit disappeared down the hallway before Owler could even speak, though he didn’t mind. He stepped into the simple room; a table was set in the corner, with a chair close to it and the bed was in the other corner, simple and rough but enough for one night. Candles were lit on the table, and the window was open to let in a breeze.
He began with removing his shirt, setting it neatly on the back of the chair and sliding off his boots, setting them next to the door. Owler then walked towards the window and sat on the ledge, feeling the cool wind on his bare chest as he sipped from his ale, looking down to the small halfling trying to pull his large draft horse into the stable though the horse complied and was led in. The songs were still just as loud at this hour as the stars were now filling the sky.
Owler took another sip of his ale and sighed, a smile coming to his lips as he looked at the pale moon, speaking aloud.
“Well, Owler.. I think today might be the happiest day we’ve had in a long time, don’t you think?”, he asked himself with a raised brow, taking another sip of his ale. “Aye.. I do think so. Not every day do you get the most beautiful lass in all of the lands courting you, even if it’s not much. She certainly does make my heart leap with just a smile and look from her.”
The smile grew more as he thought of the woman he had met at market. The way her long dark hair rested on her shoulders, the way her brown eyes warmed and when she smiled how the dimples in her cheeks grew and when he complimented her how the blush that came to her cheeks made his stomach flip and turn. He looked over towards the bed, and stood up, draining the rest of his ale and resting it on the table. He removed his trousers and socks, and climbed under the covers, looking out the window. Tomorrow he had an early rise for a long journey, but a journey he will not soon forget.. for it is with his sweetheart after all.
