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In a moment he was out again； wiping his hands on his apron。
'Good evening； little master！' he said； bending down。 'What may you be wanting？'
'Beds for four； and stabling for five ponies； if that can be managed。 Are you Mr。 Butterbur？'
'That's right！ Barliman is my name。 Barliman Butterbur at your service！ You're from the Shire； eh？' he said； and then suddenly he clapped his hand to his forehead； as if trying to remember something。 'Hobbits！' he cried。 'Now what does that remind me of？ Might I ask your names； sir？'
'Mr。 Took and Mr。 Brandybuck；' said Frodo； 'and this is Sam Gamgee。 My name is Underhill。'
'There now！' said Mr。 Butterbur； snapping his fingers。 'It's gone again！ But it'll e back； when I have time to think。 I'm run off my feet； but I'll see what I can do for you。 We don't often get a party out of the Shire nowadays； and I should be sorry not to make you wele。 But there is such a crowd already in the house tonight as there hasn't been for long enough。 It never rains but it pours； we say in Bree。
'Hi！ Nob！' he shouted。 'Where are you； you woollyfooted slowcoach？ Nob！'
'ing； sir！ ing！' A cheerylooking hobbit bobbed out of a door； and seeing the travellers； stopped short and stared at them with great interest。
'Where's Bob？' asked the landlord。 'You don't know？ Well find him！ Double sharp！ I haven't got six legs； nor six eyes neither！ Tell Bob there's five ponies that have to be stabled。 He must find room somehow。' Nob trotted off with a grin and a wink。
'Well； now； what was I going to say？' said Mr。 Butterbur； tapping his forehead。 'One thing drives out another； so to speak。 I'm that busy tonight； my head is going round。 There's a party that came up the Greenway from down South last night 。 and that was strange enough to begin with。 Then there's a travelling pany of dwarves going West e in this evening。 And now there's you。 If you weren't hobbits； I doubt if we could house you。 But we've got a room or two in the north wing that were made special for hobbits； when this place was built。 On the ground floor as they usually prefer； round windows and all as they like it。 I hope you'll be fortable。 You'll be wanting supper； I don't doubt。 As soon as may be。 This way now！'
He led them a short way down a passage； and opened a door。 'Here is a nice little parlour！' he said。 'I hope it will suit。 Excuse me now。 I'm that busy。 No time for talking。 I must be trotting。 It's hard work for two legs； but I don't get thinner。 I'll look in again later。 If you want anything； ring the handbell； and Nob will e。 If he don't e； ring and shout！'
Off he went at last； and left them feeling rather breathless。 He seemed capable of an endless stream of talk； however busy he might be。 They found themselves in a small and cosy room。 There was a bit of bright fire burning on the hearth； and in front of it were some low and fortable chairs。 There was a round table； already spread with a white cloth； and on it was a large hand bell。 But Nob； the hobbit servant； came bustling in long before they thought of ringing。 He brought candles and a tray full of plates。
'Will you be wanting anything to drink； masters？' he asked。 'And shall I show you the bedrooms； while your supper is got ready？'
They were washed and in the middle of good deep mugs of beer when Mr。 Butterbur and Nob came in again。 In a twinkling the table was laid。 There was hot soup； cold meats； a blackberry tart； new loaves； slabs of butter； and half a ripe cheese： good plain food； as good as the Shire could show； and homelike enough to dispel the last of Sam's misgivings （already much relieved by the excellence of the beer）。
The landlord hovered round for a link； and then prepared to leave them。 'I don't know whether you would care to join the pany； when you have supped；' he said； standing at the door。 'Perhaps you would rather go to your beds。 Still the pany would be very pleased to wele you； if you had a mind。 We don't get Outsiders 。 travellers from the Shire； I should say； begging your pardon 。 often； and we like to hear a bit of news； or any story or song you may have in mind。 But as you please！ Ring the bell； if you lack anything！'
So refreshed and encouraged did they feel at the end of their supper （about three quarters of an hour's steady going； not hindered by unnecessary talk） that Frodo； Pippin； and Sam decided to join the pany。 Merry said it would be too stuffy。 'I shall sit here quietly by the fire for a bit； and perhaps go out later for a sniff of the air。 Mind your Ps and Qs； and don't fet that you are supposed to be escaping in secret； and are still on the highroad and not very far from the Shire！'
'All right！' said Pippin。 'Mind yourself！ Don't get lost； and don't fet that it is safer indoors！'
The pany was in the big monroom of the inn。 The gathering was large and mixed； as Frodo discovered； when his eyes got used to the light。 This came chiefly from a blazing logfire； for the three lamps hanging from the beams were dim； and half veiled in smoke。 Barliman Butterbur was standing near the fire； talking to a couple of dwarves and one or two strangelooking men。 On the benches were various folk： men of Bree； a collection of local hobbits （sitting chattering together）； a few more dwarves； and other vague figures difficult to make out away in the shadows and ers。
As soon as the Shirehobbits entered； there was a chorus of wele from the Breelanders。 The strangers； especially those that had e up the Greenway； stared at them curiously。 The landlord introduced the newers to the Breefolk； so quickly that； though they caught many names； they were seldom sure who the names belonged to。 The Men of Bree seemed all to have rather botanical （and to the Shirefolk rather odd） names； like Rushlight； Goatleaf； Heathertoes； Appledore； Thistlewool and Ferny （not to mention Butterbur）。 Some of the hobbits had similar names。 The Mugworts； for instance； seemed numerous。 But most of them had natural names； such as Banks； Brockhouse； Longholes； Sandheaver； and Tunnelly； many of which were used in the Shire。 There were several Underhills from Saddle； and as they could not imagine sharing a name without being related； they took Frodo to their hearts as a longlost cousin。
The Breehobbits were； in fact； friendly and inquisitive； and Frodo soon found that some explanation of what he was doing would have to be given。 He gave out that he was interested in history and geography （at which there was much wagging of heads； although neither of these words were much used in the Breedialect）。 He said he was thinking of writing a book （at which there was silent astonishment）； and that he and his friends wanted to collect information about hobbits living outside the Shire； especially in the eastern lands。
At this a chorus of voices broke out。 If Frodo had really wanted to write a book； and had had many ears； he would have learned enough for several chapters in a few minutes。 And if that was not enough； he was given a whole list of names； beginning with 'Old Barliman here'； to whom he could go for further information。 But after a time； as Frodo did not show any sign of writing a book on the spot； the hobbits returned to their questions about doings in the Shire。 Frodo did not prove very municative； and he soon found himself sitting alone in a er； listening and looking around。
The Men and Dwarves were mostly talking of distant events and telling flews of a kind that was being only too familiar。 There was trouble away in the South； and it seemed that the Men who had e up the Greenway were on the move； looking for lands where they could find some peace。 The Breefolk were sympathetic； but plainly not very ready to take a large number of strangers into their little land。 One of the travellers； a squinteyed illfavoured fellow； was foretelling that more and more people would be ing north in the near future。 'If room isn't found for them； they'll find it for themselves。
They've a right to live； same as other folk；' he said loudly。 The local inhabitants did not look pleased at the prospect。
The hobbits did not pay much attention to all this； and it did not at the moment seem to concern hobbits。 Big Folk could hardly beg for lodgings in hobbitholes。 They were more interested in Sam and Pippin； e； and were chatting gaily about events in the Shire。 Pippin roused a good deal of laughter with an account of the collapse of the roof of the Town Hole in Michel Delving： Will Whitfoot； the Mayor； and the fattest hobbit in the Westfarthing； had been buried in chalk； and came out like a floured dumpling。 But there ade Frodo a little uneasy。 One of the Breelanders； who seemed to have been in the Shire several times； wanted to know where the Underhills lived and who they were related to。
Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strangelooking weatherbeaten man； sitting in the shadows near the wall； was also listening intently to the hobbittalk。 He had a tall tankard in front of him； and was smoking a longstemmed pipe curiously carved。 His legs were stretched out before him； showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well； but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud。 A travelstained cloak of heavy darkgreen cloth was drawn close about him； and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face； but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits。
'Who is that？' Frodo asked； when he got a chance to whisper to Mr。 Butterbur。 'I don't think you introduced him？'
'Him？' said the landlord in an answering whisper； cocking an eye without turning his head。 'I don't rightly know。 He is one of the wandering folk Rangers we call them。 He seldom talks： not but what he can tell a rare tale when he has the mind。 He disappears for a month； or a year； and then he pops up again。 He was in and out pretty often last spring； but I haven't seen him about lately。 What his right name is I've never heard： but he's known round here as Strider。 Goes about at a great pace on his long shanks； though he don't tell nobody what cause he has to hurry。 But there's no accounting for East and West； as we say in Bree； meaning the Rangers and the Shirefolk； begging your pardon。 Funny you should ask about him。' But at that moment Mr。 Butterbur was called away by a demand for more ale and his last remark remained unexplained。
Frodo found that Strider was now looking at him； as if he had heard or guessed all that had been said。 Presently； with a wave of his hand and a nod； he invited Frodo to e over and sit by him。 As Frodo drew near be threw back his hood； showing a shaggy head of dark hair necked with grey； and in a pale stem face a pair of keen grey eyes。
'I am called Strider；' he said in a low voice。 'I am very pleased to meet you。 Master 。 Underhill； if old Butterbur got your name right。'
'He did；' said Frodo stiffly。 He felt far from fortable under the stare of those keen eyes。
'Well； Master Underhill；' said Strider； 'if I were you； I should stop your young friends from talking too much。 Drink； fire； and chancemeeting are pleasant enough； but； well 。 this isn't the Shire。 There are queer folk about。 Though I say it as shouldn't； you may think；' he added with a wry smile； seeing Frodo's glance。 'And there have been even stranger travellers through Bree lately；' he went on； watching Frodo's face。
Frodo returned his gaze but said nothing； and Strider made no further sign。 His attention seemed suddenly to be fixed on Pippin。 To his alarm Frodo became aware that the ridiculous young Took； encouraged by his success with the fat Mayor of Michel Delving； was now actually giving a ic account of Bilbo's farewell party。 He was already giving an imitation of the Speech； and was drawing near to the astonishing Disappearance。
Frodo was annoyed。 It was a harmless enough tale for most of the local hobbits； no doubt： just a funny story about those funny people away beyond the River； but some （old Butterbur； for instance） knew a thing or two； and had probably heard rumours long ago about Bilbo's vanishing。 It would bring the name of Baggins to their minds； especially if there had been inquiries in Bree after that name。
Frodo fidgeted； wondering what to do。 Pippin was evidently much enjoying the attention he was getting； and had bee quite fetful of their danger。 Frodo had a sudd