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Nov 12: At the Prancing Pony (Early February, T.A. 3019, Bree) By Bernadette Crumb (aka Rhyselle)
Barliman nervously eyed the fourteen men who were gathered in the private parlour. Rangers, every one of them--grim, determined, and dangerous--speaking softly as they pored over a map. For all that they didn’t startle when he’d opened the door, he could tell that they were well aware of him.
He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, ‘tis nigh onto suppertime. Will you eat in here or join the crowd in the taproom?”
Their leader, who had introduced himself as Halbarad, cast him an appraising glance. “Here will do. And a pint of your best ale each would not go amiss.”
A/N: Prompt: “A pint! A pint!” by Jayne Doe from the ALEP2: TABA group on Facebook |
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