To the Armory

'Thank you for that,' Shasta tells you as she walks you along the long corridor, towards a big red door. 'I don't think I could bear being locked inside of this little village again.'

'My pleasure,' you say. 'But I have to tell you that I'm on your father's side with this. It's dangerous to go such things alone.' She opens the red door, and suddenly you're outside in the bright sun. In front of you are lots of gardens with little ponds, and many hobbits tending to them. Then there are lots of fields full of crops and vegetables. It looks like this is quite a pleasant farming community. 'I have to confess I was the same at your age,' you continue. 'Always going off into the world, looking for adventure. But Goblins are no joking matter. They will kill you brutally, and skin you for dinner.'

'Why didn't they kill you then?' she asks suspiciously.

'Because they don't want to attract attention to themselves,' you explain. 'They might be killing an important person, and next thing they now there's a goblin hunt on their ugly arses.'

'Are you?'

'Am I what?'

'An important person?'

You sigh. 'I don't really know, actually. There's not a whole lot that I remember. I only know that I must have come far from here. With a mission probably. I think I work for some very important people, but I don't remember who exactly, and this must be an important mission if I'm going this far. So my guess is that they trust me.'

She suddenly looks very interested. 'Really? So you must be an official adventurer? Going on quests for royalty and such?'

'Maybe, yes,' you smirk, trying to make light of it. If it were the case that you are an official adventurer, you're not sure if you might indulge that information with members of a foreign nation. So you decide to steer the conversation away from all of that. 'Anyway, if I get my stuff back, I might be able to find out why I'm here.'

You walk along a dirt path, past all the cosy hobbit houses, looking very cheerful in the afternoon sun. Some of the hobbits are sitting in their front benches, reading a book and smoking a pipe, while some of the hobbit-children were playing along the little rivers, screaming and laughing with joy. In the distance you can see a big clearing, and lots of hobbits crowding towards it. It looks like the town square.

'I've always wanted to travel the world,' Shasta says under her breath. 'Get out of this boring little town...'

'Why do you want to get out of this place?' you ask, looking around. 'This looks like a dream! It's so peaceful, and cozy...'

'Yeah, it is. If by those things you mean boring,' she retorts. 'This town might be nice for a holiday, but not for a lifetime!'

'Then you should just leave,' you say. 'You are of age, are you not?'

'I would love to, but I could never run out on my own,' she says, looking sullen. 'I couldn't manage it. And besides, my father would never allow it.'

'Your father is not the boss of you,' you tell her. 'If you want to get out, you should just go out. Explore the world on your own terms. You would be better off than me.'

'But if I do that, I will lose my family. My mom. My uncles and aunts. My nephews and nieces. I would never be able to see them again.'

'Your father would banish you?' you ask, surprised.

'Yes, he is very strict you see,' Shasta answers. 'All the hobbits here are very strict about things. That's why I want to leave.'

'I see...' you say. 'Well, I might be able to help you. But we'll see about that. First I need some armour.'

You arrive at the armory; a tiny hobbit house, with a roaring forge in front of it. A young hobbit man was working it, making small daggers of some kind. The two of you enter the building, politely nodding towards the young hobbit. _Ironlove & Son _it says on the sign above the door.

Inside is an older gentleman hobbit, most likely to be Ironlove Senior. He doesn't seem to notice you, as he is busy polishing some rings in a display case. 'Hey old man, I'm here for some business,' Shasta shouts.

The man looks around, startled, then bursts out laughing. 'Shasta! How good to see you!'

The two hobbits embrace each other, like they're family. 'This old codger is Barkin Ironlove, a close friend of the family. I've known him since I was a baby.'

'Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Ironlove. My name is Brengar Highfoot.' You extend your hand, and he accepts it graciously.

'We're here for some armour, Barkin,' Shasta explains. 'For Brengar here. He lost all of it in the woods, you see.'

'Ah, so you're the fella our Shasta here saved huh?' he asks. 'Word has been traveling quickly around town. I'll see what I can do for you, but I'll have to make it completely new. We don't have anything in your size to offer, unfortunately. Everything here is hobbit-sized.'

'That's okay, I only need some armor my size. I could take a hobbit sword,' you say. 'I'm hoping to find my stuff back anyway.'

You spent about an hour inside the smiths shop, before deciding on a flexible longsword laid with leather and black gemstones. The armour you chose was of blue leather, covering the perfectly flexible iron underneath it. The son and his father helped you in the armour, while Shasta spied from the other side of the shop. She notices you still have a huge bulge in your undergarments. Apparently your stiff one never went away. She doesn't comment on it though.

Once your finished and looking fresh in your new armour, you tell the Ironlove's goodbye. Once you're out of earshot you ask Shasta; 'Didn't you need to pay for that?'

'I'm the mayor's daughter,' she says. 'I never need to pay for anything in this town.'