A little after noon constables Calamint and Thistlewood went into the Mad Badger Inn in Archet for a couple of pints. Calamint had met constable Thistlewood of Archet late afternoon yesterday and explained the situation to him, and the two constables had quickly become friends. Thistlewood seemed a little slow, but honest and good-natured watchman who genuinely liked hobbits. Everyone loved hobbits in Archet, Thistlewood assured. And nobody in Archet had ever even heard of anyone called Sharkey. The idea that the Shire was somehow profiting at Bree’s expense sounded absurd to Thistlewood.
Calamint liked Thistlewood. And Archet. Perhaps he could move to live here after he retired.
He thanked Bernice, the bartender, took his pint and turned to Thistlewood.
”May we all be alive at this same time next year”, Thistlewood said and they drank deep from their pints. It was not as good as Barliman’s ale, but it was not bad either. Calamint could learn to love it, he was sure of it.
When they had finished their first pints and bought their seconds, the two constables retired to a bench in the corner of the inn for a little chat.
”Well, he’s not here today”, Calamint said. ”But I didn’t like the look of that guy, not at all. And the feeling must have been mutual, because he left the tavern in a hurry soon after seeing me come in.”
”Huh”, Thistlewood pondered. ”I don’t know anyone who fits that description here in Archet, so he must not have been local. And we don’t get all that many visitors here in Archet. Bernice!”
The bartender looked up at Thistlewood. ”Aye?”
”Do you remember a stranger here from yesterday? You would remember a man like that. A dark, limping man, with dark, glittering eyes.”
”Oh, aye”, Bernice nodded. ”Certainly. I didn’t like him much. His eyes were quite mad. But he had a powerful voice.”
”A powerful voice?” Calamint cut in.
”Oh, aye. Powerful. He was not a handsome man, but I would have considered him charming, if not for those eyes. He scared me, sir, he did.”
”Did he tell you what his business here in Archet was, Bernice?”
Bernice shook her head. ”It’s not like he was reserved or trying to avoid questions. On the contrary, when he came in and ordered stew and mulled wine he was trying to chat me up, talking about weather and such. I got the impression that he had a story to tell and he wouldn’t mind sharing it with me. But I did not want to talk to that man or ask any questions, not with those scary eyes he had. So he just smiled and took his mulled wine and went to sit by the fireplace. He ate his stew and drank his mulled wine and watched the clients. And sometimes he would smile, and it gave me the creeps to see him smile like that at the sodden, wretched drunkards we had here yesterday. It was like he was… delighted to see their misfortune, if you know what I mean? Like it gave him some secret joy or pleasure. And then you came in, and he picked up his things and left rather quickly.”
Calamint looked at Thistlewood. ”Curious, is it not?”
Thistlewood slurped his ale and rubbed his chin ponderously. ”Indeed. He must have left Archet immediately after he left the inn.”
”How so?”
”I asked people around the market this morning”, said Thistlewood. ”Somebody like that would be noticed and remembered – any stranger here will be noticed and remembered. It is a very small village, Archet. Nobody had seen any strangers here today. But Harry, who guarded the gate yesterday, he remembered him. The stranger came early afternoon yesterday from Combe Road, and Harry asked him his name and business. ’Tom, from Bree.’ Here to look the place up, maybe even settle in. Bree was getting too restless, he said. Harry didn’t much like his mug, but saw no reason to bar him from entering. He was only armed with a walking stick. An hour later the stranger, ’Tom’, if that was his real name, limped out of the gate in a hurry. Harry thought it odd that he had walked all the way from Bree to Archet and then spent only an hour there. He must have really disliked our little village, Harry reckoned.”
”That is odd indeed”, Calamint agreed. ”Care for another pint?”
Thistlewood grinned with his toothless mouth, surrounded by an unkempt beard. ”If you insist.”
”I do”, Calamint assured.
Tom, from Bree, he thought.
