Thorin travels through a small town and stops at the tavern to drink away his woes. It's here he meets Nellie, a hopeless free spirit who has no idea who he truly is. It hardly matters as she has a secret of her own. Passion & romance was the last t...
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As his tired hands reached for the handle of the tavern's door and pried it open, Thorin had been met with boisterous voices, clanking tankards, and jovial conversations which erupted from the tables and stools within the Pig and Whistle establishment. No one seemed to notice the dwarf enter, much less care why one of his kind might be traveling down that way-which for him, was a good thing. So without having to hide much in the way of not drawing attention to himself, Thorin Oakenshield simply sauntered over to an empty table, exhausted from his travels. For a moment or two, he enjoyed being off of his aching feet and let his tired and work-hardened hands lay flat upon the table. The air that had been held within his lungs expelled a bountiful sigh of utter relief. Once he had decompressed, a pipe was pulled from a pouch at his side. As he filled the bowl and struck a match, he flagged down the bartender-who was also the owner of the Pig and Whistle-and ordered himself a pint.
The pub itself-as Thorin began to notice-was rather spacious and yet not so dimly lit as one might expect it to be. In all, it was charming if not quaint and at the back in the center was a roaring fire with a cauldron full of Hunter's Pot simmering over the coals. Just behind this was a staircase that led up to the rooms-for rent or hire-whose doors could be seen from the protruding balcony which jutted out the overhead of the bartop. Heads of stags, bears, and boar hung in a way of decoration across the room, though it seemed there had been no rhyme or reason to their placements. This mildly irked Thorin, who was a bit of a perfectionist. He had been thinking to himself about the better placements of these trophies when the barkeep had returned and placed the dwarf's drink down in front of him, snapping Thorin from his musings.
"Might I have a plate of whatever is hot and fresh from the kitchen?" The dwarf requested after a quick but deep drink of his ale.
"Ye might have if yer coin is good."
Such a response with all its snarkiness puzzled Thorin, who grimaced at the man before reaching into his pocket and throwing down a bit of coin. Greedily the tavern owner scooped up the metal, placing it within the safety of his apron, and pursed his lips down at Thorin. Having mumbled something under his breath that the dwarf didn't catch, the man darted away back to the bar but not before hollering to the kitchen to prepare an order. As Thorin sat with his drink, it crossed his mind that he didn't like that man. There was something about him that didn't sit quite right, though the dwarf found himself not dwelling too long on it. After all, it didn't rightly matter what he thought of him, because in a few days' time Thorin would be on his way never to set foot in this place ever again.
Just as the last gulp of ale went down his gullet, Thorin's meal had left the kitchen. A tray topped with half a dozen mugs and his supper was carried by a lass who had seemingly gone lost in a throng of patrons reaching for their glasses. Her appearance brought cheers from the regulars who smiled from ear to ear at the sight of her. This small creature was short in stature yet thick in build, with reddened cheeks from working in the hot kitchen environment. There was a comeliness about her, which was in stark contrast to the owner who openly sneered at the joy found when she entered the room. The pub took on a new life with the introduction of her presence. It was intriguing.
