Vera, the longsuffering waitress of the Bridge Inn, wipes her hands on her apron and picks up a broom, which she uses to rap sharply on Ranly’s ankles, “Here, here! No standing on the table, young sir. I’ll have you know I spend half my time mopping up muddy footprints off the floor, and I’ll not have ‘em on the table, too! I should never have taken a job down here by the bridge. Things were nice and dry up at the Great Smials when I was growing up.” She sighs deeply and snaps her apron at Ranly.
Hearing the mention of Great Smials brings a grin from Wulfstan, “You’re lucky you left before the flood of ought-eight, Miss Vera.” He looks a bit more seriously in the direction of Ranly and whispers, “If you’re planning on setting out any time soon, let me know. I’ve a trusty dagger that would be a match for even any big folks we might meet on the road.”
“Oh hush, Heli,” Herifast Hayward grumbles to his sister, cheeks that were already rosy reddening a little more. “Y’know I can’t marry R- uh, marry anyone, I mean, just yet. Got ta put a bit by first.” He fidgets uncomfortably and returns his attention to the conversation.
A dozen ponies? Herifast’s mouth falls open at that. “Ye’ve never got that many already,” he states firmly. “Happen I could hire ye a few, stout little fellows who’ve never shirke at an honest day’s work. At a good price, too. An’ I’d come along to look after them. Only there’s a few things t’get straight first-”
“He means,” cuts in the sharp voice of Heliotrope, the middle-aged ladyhobbit with a cloth in her hand, “what about remuneration? And out-of-pocket expenses, and,” she pauses, offering her brother a fierce glare, “compensation to his family in the case of untoward happenings.” She affects an expression of prim shock at Vera’s offer to join the indecent ‘adventure’ – after all, a hard-working barmaid hardly falls in the same category as impressionable young Finneus or a mad Took – but there’s a calculating gleam in her eye too. With Vera absent, the Innkeep will be seeking another barmaid …
