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Night was falling as they rolled past the splintered sign that read “Needlehole”.
Throughout days of forests and fields it was certainly a relief for Jamwine to see evidence of village life. Although he had never traveled to such far reaches of the Shire, it did feel a bit like home.
Jamwine’s first order of business would be to find the nearest inn. The dwarves, being dwarves, had other intentions.
“Let us see that map” the lead dwarf shouted back to Jamwine from the driver’s seat.
“We shall make a pact” said Jamwine hesitantly, “You helped me from the bank of the river, I am in your service. Should we find this treasure, you must agree to help me back to Frogmorton."
“Deal!” the dwarves shouted in unison.
The head dwarf muttered the clues to himself.
“Stinking fog?” he thought with puzzlement. “That could only mean one thing… Tonight, we rest in Needlehole. Tomorrow we seek the gold!”
It was a fair enough plan for Jamwine. It had been a long journey.
“Ok fellas, onward to the Inn. Oh and, I don’t believe I caught your names…”