Character: Nob, the Prancing Pony’s pot-boy
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s Middle-earth, and all who dwell there.
“First ‘e were there... next moment ‘e were gone. Poof! Just like that!”
Nob rubbed his head wonderingly, his audience looked sceptical, though eager to hear more; it’d been a night and a half and no mistake. There’d been that ranger lurking in the corner, the big ’un with the old cloak and knowing look. Then those nasty howls in the dark, and the kerfuffle in the bedroom – feathers everywhere!
Nob shuddered, not that strangers weren’t welcome, but they’d left not a moment too soon...
Still... ‘rivendell’ he’d heard... and just briefly - he might have gone too, had they asked.