Chapter 2. At the Crowing Cockerel

Entering the inn, they stepped from being inundated with buckets of water to warmth, laughter, and good smells. A cheery fire blazed on the large hearth, hobbits gathered around tables, drinking and eating, a solemn elderly dog wandered from table to table, offering to help out with any extra bits or gristle.

Pippin took an appreciative breath, looking forward to whatever was on offer. The innkeeper bustled forward with an anxious smile, wiping his hands on a towel. 'Everything's all ready for you, sir,' he said to Reginard. 'Please, come this way.'

They did not take a place at one of the tables in the common room, but followed the innkeeper down a corridor with doors to either side. Near the end, he opened a door and stood waiting for them to enter. They walked into a large, pleasant room, fire crackling on the hearth, two beds against opposite walls, a bath filled with steaming water standing before the fire, two chairs drawn up to a table set for supper in one corner. 'I hope this meets with your satisfaction, sir,' the innkeeper said obsequiously. At Reginard's nod, he added, 'We'll bring a hot supper along soon, sir, as soon as the bread comes out of the oven.'

'Very good,' Reginard dismissed him curtly. He withdrew, and the weary travellers entered the room.

'So, who bathes first?' Pippin asked. 'Age before beauty?'

Reginard grunted. 'You go put yourself into the bath, I'll go see about that mug.'

Pippin laughed. 'Right!' He hung his cloak on the stand near the hearth and began to pull the surcoat over his head. Reginard nodded to himself and left the room.

When he returned bearing a covered mug, Pippin's clothes were steaming on the stand by the fire, and he was lying at his ease in the bath, head thrown back, eyes closed. Hearing Reginard enter, he said, 'Ahhhh, I find this water much more agreeable than what's bucketing down outside.'

'I can imagine,' Regi answered. He uncovered the mug and held it out. 'Here, I want you to drink this all up.'

Pippin wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell. 'Herbs?' he asked. 'This is not exactly the kind of mug I had in mind.'

'That'll come later,' Regi said, 'with the dinner. You drink that up, now. Likely to catch your death, soaked to the skin in that cold rain.'

Pippin shook his head. 'People are such fussbudgets,' he said, 'always worrying about one catching one's death.' He sipped at the mug, making a face at the bitter taste. 'Why would anyone want to go chasing after death, anyhow, much less catching it?' he said whimsically. 'And why do we say "fussbudget" to describe a person who doesn't at all budget his fusses, but spends them recklessly at the least inclination?'

'None of your nonsense, now, lad,' Reginard said, not unkindly. 'You drink that up.'

Pippin sighed. 'At least it doesn't have honey in it,' he said. He sipped some more, grimacing but refraining from further comment.

'Aye. They wanted to put honey in it, but I told them no. Had to be firm about it.'

'Oh?' Pippin said.

'Aye, had to show them my ring, as a matter of fact.'

Pippin smiled, 'The seal of the Thain,' he said. 'Such power... are you sure you want to put it into my hands?'

Regi almost smiled. 'No,' he said, 'but it's better than leaving it in my hands. Think of the harm I could do.'

'What?' Pippin asked. 'Pull down the Smials? I've been wanting to do that for years, dusty old place. Ah for a decent earthquake... just have the whole thing fall in and start over again.'

'Don't say that,' Regi said intensely. 'Don't even think it, lad. The Tooks will bind you and blindfold you and carry you over the farthest border.'

'They needn't bother about the blindfold,' Pippin said cheerfully. 'I'd hardly try to make my way back. You're dragging me to Tuckborough against my will as it is.'

'You ought to listen to your elders,' Regi said. 'They know what's good for you. Like that tea, for instance... drink up whilst it's still hot. It'll taste much worse if you let it cool.'

'You don't have to tell me,' Pippin answered. 'It's cooling enough to taste already.' He gulped the rest of the mug down and shuddered. 'There,' he said. 'Now when do I get some of the best beer on the Stock Road?'

There was a tap at the door. 'Sounds as if it is arriving even now,' Regi said, and went to open the door, admitting the innkeeper and his older son, both bearing laden trays.

'Nice hot dinner for you, sirs, bread's fresh out of the oven, beer's just poured,' he said. He laid the meal out on the table, then he and his son bowed and left again.

Regi filled a mug from the pitcher, bringing it over to the bath, exchanging it for the empty one Pippin held. 'Perhaps you'll find this more to your liking,' he said.

Pippin sipped and sighed in satisfaction. 'Yes,' he said. 'Why didn't you bring me some of this in the first place? I feel better already.'