(This story takes place after an encounter between Ottho and Vaalea on the perch of the Hunting Lodge in Bree.)
When the hobbit Ottho Hobbs closed the wooden door behind him, he was met with short laughter from a few hunters that has been eagerly listening near the entrance. The halfling ignored them for now, as he was first concerned with taking of his work apron, that was still around his waist. The wish for silence went ignored by the party of hunters, who followed the hobbit to the back of the long lodge. "You should have declined that that madwoman earlier, Hobbs! If she didn't had that child around her neck, we would have said no to your donation without question." The man that was talking was known as Niall Ninebark, a boorish hunter who was more renowned for his mouth than his skill with a bow. "You had us worried for a moment, yet we heard your last words. You told her proper, Hobbs."
The halfling didn't remembered his words properly, as he said them in a haze of civic responsibility that he couldn't repress any longer. Ottho hanged his apron in the small cooking area, where he also took care of most of his butchering, before he walked into the main hall to speak to the party of hunters, who were listening with open ears to the hobbit. "I tried my best, like a hobbit of my standing should, yet I couldn't get a knot out of that woman. She speaks down upon us like we are some backwater township!" The hunters around the hobbit seemed to get visibly angry thanks to the hobbit's rousing words, and those further off in the lodge turned their heads around as well now. "She spoke at length about the forest and such nonsense, and how we are bad people for not knowing her ways! She stands on a high pole, and she is spitting down at us. It almost seems like that!" These rather nasty words seemed to be like music to the ears of this disgruntled group, and Naill responded to the hobbit with words. "You say what most of us think, Hobbs. Days were brighter before our town became the watering hole for the left-overs of other places. How many of us has been wronged by strangers from 'who-knows-where'?" The band of hunters went on with naming numerous examples, from getting cut in line to downright violent behavior they have endured.
After this storm razed in the lodge for a good ten minutes, the spirits of these begrudged Bree-landers became a bit lessened. Most went on their separated way, as the hunters needed to prepare for an upcoming hunting trip. Yet not Ottho, starter of this bonfire. He was still seated at one of the tables, letting out a long sigh while he grabbed for the tankard of beer that was tapped for him. He was sorry for the harsh words that were said, yet it was right to have said them. Hobbs began his second tankard of the day, and more would follow. Drowning out the feelings.
