A birthday request for a Fellowship drabble. (I had to stretch it out to a double)

Pony Sense

"See there, sir, he's favouring it a bit."

"Yes, I see - easy Bill, good lad - I don't think it's much, Sam, just a little stiffness."

They really shouldn't fuss. I know when I'm well off. No whips and curses here. Just that great Man, standing guard over there. Makes me feel as tall as a warhorse when he rubs me down. And that one of the Fair Folk who sings of starlit things in my ear.

And my Hobbits. One's resting, but two are grinning, waving their feet in the air.

"See that's what's best about bare feet - no wet boots."

"Humph!" our Wizard snorts. "It's wet stockings that are the worst."

"Well if you can't have a fire at least you can have a smoke," they laugh and
offer him their odd-smelling weed.

No trouble with my feet. Not with a Dwarf to see to the fit of my shoes.

But that liniment does smell nice. And those hands do feel very good. And my leg really does feel much better already ...

"There, that should do it, Sam. I think all will be well."

Kind master strokes my nose, slips me dried apple, and I know that it will.