Eat, Bray, Love, Episode 5

It was starting to get dark when we passed through the gates of Bree-town, so we made a beeline toward the Prancing Pony Inn for some supper and a night's rest. The Inn's reputation for serving the highest quality beer, next to the Golden Perch in Stock, of course, made it a favorite overnight stop for hobbits visiting from Buckland. 

The proprietor, a flustered fat man named Barliman Butterbur, was too busy to be bothered with a mere hex. "So long as it ain't a hex on my beer!" he said. He gently shoved us in the direction of a tall woman standing along the wall opposite of the bar not far from the door into the front courtyard. Like Gardenia Bracegirdle in Michel Delving, healer Polly Leafcutter plied her trade at the local inn. Rusty and I were observing a trend.

"That's a fine lookin' beast you got there, li'l missy," said Polly Leafcutter looking in Donkey-Piper's mouth. "And fine teeth, too, for an animal his age. How old did you say he was?"
"He's no beast!" I replied. "That's my husband! He hasn't any tail, see?" I said pointing at Piper's backside.
"I seen plenty o' donkeys wit'out no tail,' Polly said doubtfully.
"He hasn't any hooves, either, or withers for that matter," I insisted.

"Withers, eh?" Polly examined my husband again. 
"Aye, miss, I see your point," the Big Folk healer said, nodding unconvincingly. She cleared her throat.
"I reckon you ought to feed the lad some barley straw along wit' some hay an' green grass. Be sure he has plenty o' clean water to drink, too. Place a few drops of this tincture in his feedbag with each meal."
She handed me a small glass bottle containing a thick, green liquid. 
"He ought be right as rain in a few days," she assured me with a smile and encouraging wink.

Rusty and I looked at each other in amazement, wondering if the Big Folk lady had even heard a word we'd said.