No answer.

Another day and still no one had come to inquire about the work he was offering. After suffering through the chores he laid himself down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling above him, wondering if jobs were plentiful in the town these days. While it at least would keep people off the street it was not such good news for himself.
He sighed and adjusted the pillow underneath his head, eyes shutting and his mind drifting to try and ignore the throbbing pain in his foot.
Maybe people were afraid to visit him? Maybe they thought the old man still lived here? As far as he had learned the previous owner was a man that did not enjoy company and was perhaps the reason that the houses around were abandoned. He chuckled quietly at the thought and shook his head.
He still hadn't heard anything from the pair of Hobbits he met, they hadn't come over. Not even miss Bottle who he had hoped would come and give him more information on that market. How was he supposed to attend if he did not know where and when? Then again perhaps it was a simple throw out for a conversation rather than any proper invitation to join at the market.
What was he going to do if no one would answer his request? The thought troubled him and so he started to wonder if he should buy the plot nearby and fix up the old cottage, he could use it as a shack or perhaps a home for his sheep in the winter.
It was something to think about and a welcomed distraction from the pain, however, it wasn't long until the dogs came to remind him that they were hungry. It was time to try and force himself out of bed again.