To Combe and back again

"I hope you chose well, my son. Because if you didn't, I'll be expecting you to return here. And that wouldn't make me too happy, I've had enough of you in the last 26 years or so", said Walda. "And the Militia?"
"This has nothing to do with them, father." said Athanaric. "At least not with master Arundar."
"So you think you can manage both.. Well, then."
The large man stretched his neck, then released a yawn and looked his son directly in the eyes. "Leave, now. I'll come visit your new place in a day or two", he said with a grin and went back to his hammer and anvil.

"He's a tough man your father, Athan." said Xylock a few minutes later, as the two were riding back to Bree. "Don't make him unhappy, I bet he would just toss you over his knees and give you a spanking to remember" he laughed.
"I wouldn't worry about my father, Xy. And getting beaten by him is not what I fear most, but the years of mockery that would follow if I.. If we fail. My father has a very strange sense of humour."
"Strange.. that's a new word. Reading your mother's scrolls again lately? Aye, don't give me that look. Let's change the subject. Is all in place at the shop?" said Xy.
"Of course not. Those damned crates of ingots still lie in the middle of the room." Athanaric turned to his friend. "Maybe.."
"Sorry, I can't. Bad back. You know, from playing the harp..?"
"You lazy, slothful, indolent bard!" smiled Athanaric and reached to kick the other in the shoulder. "I must've been drunk the day I told you about me opening a shop in Bree!"

Xy avoided the fist with ease. "But you were, my friend, you were. Drunk as a hobbit during the summer festival. But you weren't drunk - and neither was I - the next day, when you asked me to sponsor your trade. And I said yes, so.."

The two rode silently for some time, each with his own thoughts. The gate of Bree Town rose tall in the afternoon light, when Athanaric turned again to Xylock.
"You should go talk to Skinner."
"Now?"
"Now."
"Not a chance."
"You indolent, lazy..!"
"My friend, the Summer Festival is here, the man is rather busy. And furthermore, he doesn't like bards at all, I hear. You go have a word with him, I'll tend to other matters. A few of my friends." said Xylock implacably.
A few minutes later, a purse - rather heavy-looking - exchanged hands near the Boar Fountain. An appealed Jim Skinner was smiling at a frowning Athanaric. Later in the evening, the market filled with people, as the day's duties and work was layed aside..