mong the inhabitants； large and small； of the four villages； and a resort of Rangers and other wanderers； and for such travellers （mostly dwarves） as still journeyed on the East Road； to and from the Mountains。
It was dark； and white stars were shining； when Frodo and his panions came at last to the Greenwaycrossing and drew near the village。 They came to the Westgate and found it shut； but at the door of the lodge beyond it； there was a man sitting。 He jumped up and fetched a lantern and looked over the gate at them in surprise。
'What do you want； and where do you e from？' he asked gruffly。
'We are making for the inn here；' answered Frodo。 'We are journeying east and cannot go further tonight。'
'Hobbits！ Four hobbits！ And what's more； out of the Shire by their talk；' said the gatekeeper； softly as if speaking to himself。 He stared at them darkly for a moment； and then slowly opened the gate and let them ride through。
'We don't often see Shirefolk riding on the Road at night；' he went on； as they halted a moment by his door。 'You'll pardon my wondering what business takes you away east of Bree！ What may your names be； might I ask？'
'Our names and our business are our own； and this does not seem a good place to discuss them；' said Frodo； not liking the look of the man or the tone of his voice。
'Your business is your own； no doubt；' said the man； 'but it's my business to ask questions after nightfall。'
'We are hobbits from Buckland； and we have a fancy to travel and to stay at the inn here；' put in Merry。 'I am Mr。 Brandybuck。 Is that enough for you？ The Breefolk used to be fairspoken to travellers； or so I had heard。'
'All right； all right！' said the man。 'I meant no offence。 But you'll find maybe that more folk than old Harry at the gate will be asking you questions。 There's queer folk about。 If you go on to The Pony； you'll find you're oat the only guests。'
He wished them good night； and they said no more； but Frodo could see in the lanternlight that the man was still eyeing them curiously。 He was glad to hear the gate clang to behind them； as they rode forward。 He wondered why the man was so suspicious； and whether any one had been asking for news of a party of hobbits。 Could it have been Gandalf？ He might have arrived； while they were delayed in the Forest and the Downs。 But there was something in the look and the voice of the gatekeeper that made him uneasy。
The man stared after the hobbits for a moment； and then he went back to his house。 As soon as his back was turned； a dark figure climbed quickly in over the gate and melted into the shadows of the village street。
The hobbits rode on up a gentle slope； passing a few detached houses； and drew up outside the inn。 The houses looked large and strange to them。 Sam stared up at the inn with its three storeys and many windows； and felt his heart sink。 He had imagined himself meeting giants taller than trees； and other creatures even more terrifying； some time or other in the course of his journey； but at the moment he was finding his first sight of Men and their tall houses quite enough； indeed too much for the dark end of a tiring day。 He pictured black horses standing all saddled in the shadows of the innyard； and Black Riders peering out of dark upper windows。
'We surely aren't going to stay here for the night； are we； sir？' he exclaimed。 'If there are hobbitfolk in these pans； why don't we look for some that would be willing to take us in？ It would be more homelike。'
'What's wrong with the inn？' said Frodo。 'Tom Bombadil remended it。 I expect it's homelike enough inside。'
Even from the outside the inn looked a pleasant house to familiar eyes。 It had a front on the Road； and two wings running back on land partly cut out of the lower slopes of the hill； so that at the rear the secondfloor windows were level with the ground。 There was a wide arch leading to a courtyard between the two wings； and on the left under the arch there was a large doorway reached by a few broad steps。 The door was open and light streamed out of it。 Above the arch there was a lamp； and beneath it swung a large signboard： a fat white pony reared up on its hind legs。 Over the door was painted in white letters： THE PRANCING PONY by BARLIMAN BUTTERBUR。 Many of the lower windows showed lights behind thick curtains。
As they hesitated outside in the gloom； someone began singing a merry song inside； and many cheerful voices joined loudly in the chorus。 They listened to this encouraging sound for a moment and then got off their ponies。 The song ended and there was a burst of laughter and clapping。
They led their ponies under the arch； and leaving them standing in the yard they climbed up the steps。 Frodo went forward and nearly bumped into a short fat man with a bald head and a red face。 He had a white apron on； and was bustling out of one door and in through another； carrying a tray laden with full mugs。
'Can we—' began Frodo。
'Half a minute； if you please！' shouted the man over his shoulder； and vanished into a babel of voices and a cloud of smoke。 In a moment he was out again； wiping his hands on his apron。
'Good evening； little master！' he said； bending down。 'What may you be wanting？'
'Beds for four； and stabling for five ponies； if that can be managed。 Are you Mr。 Butterbur？'
'That's right！ Barliman is my name。 Barliman Butterbur at your service！ You're from the Shire； eh？' he said； and then suddenly he clapped his hand to his forehead； as if trying to remember something。 'Hobbits！' he cried。 'Now what does that remind me of？ Might I ask your names； sir？'
'Mr。 Took and Mr。 Brandybuck；' said Frodo； 'and this is Sam Gamgee。 My name is Underhill。'
'There now！' said Mr。 Butterbur； snapping his fingers。 'It's gone again！ But it'll e back； when I have time to think。 I'm run off my feet； but I'll see what I can do for you。 We don't often get a party out of the Shire nowadays； and I should be sorry not to make you wele。 But there is such a crowd already in the house tonight as there hasn't been for long enough。 It never rains but it pours； we say in Bree。
'Hi！ Nob！' he shouted。 'Where are you； you woollyfooted slowcoach？ Nob！'
'ing； sir！ ing！' A cheerylooking hobbit bobbed out of a door； and seeing the travellers； stopped short and stared at them with great interest。
'Where's Bob？' asked the landlord。 'You don't know？ Well find him！ Double sharp！ I haven't got six legs； nor six eyes neither！ Tell Bob there's five ponies that have to be stabled。 He must find room somehow。' Nob trotted off with a grin and a wink。
'Well； now； what was I going to say？' said Mr。 Butterbur； tapping his forehead。 'One thing drives out another； so to speak。 I'm that busy tonight； my head is going round。 There's a party that came up the Greenway from down South last night 。 and that was strange enough to begin with。 Then there's a travelling pany of dwarves going West e in this evening。 And now there's you。 If you weren't hobbits； I doubt if we could house you。 But we've got a room or two in the north wing that were made special for hobbits； when this place was built。 On the ground floor as they usually prefer； round windows and all as they like it。 I hope you'll be fortable。 You'll be wanting supper； I don't doubt。 As soon as may be。 This way now！'
He led them a short way down a passage； and opened a door。 'Here is a nice little parlour！' he said。 'I hope it will suit。 Excuse me now。 I'm that busy。 No time for talking。 I must be trotting。 It's hard work for two legs； but I don't get thinner。 I'll look in again later。 If you want anything； ring the handbell； and Nob will e。 If he don't e； ring and shout！'
Off he went at last； and left them feeling rather breathless。 He seemed capable of an endless stream of talk； however busy he might be。 They found themselves in a small and cosy room。 There was a bit of bright fire burning on the hearth； and in front of it were some low and fortable chairs。 There was a round table； already spread with a white cloth； and on it was a large hand bell。 But Nob； the hobbit servant； came bustling in long before they thought of ringing。 He brought candles and a tray full of plates。
'Will you be wanting anything to drink； masters？' he asked。 'And shall I show you the bedrooms； while your supper is got ready？'
They were washed and in the middle of good deep mugs of beer when Mr。 Butterbur and Nob came in again。 In a twinkling the table was laid。 There was hot soup； cold meats； a blackberry tart； new loaves； slabs of butter； and half a ripe cheese： good plain food； as good as the Shire could show； and homelike enough to dispel the last of Sam's misgivings （already much relieved by the excellence of the beer）。
The landlord hovered round for a link； and then prepared to leave them。 'I don't know whether you would care to join the pany； when you have supped；' he said； standing at the door。 'Perhaps you would rather go to your beds。 Still the pany would be very pleased to wele you； if you had a mind。 We don't get Outsiders 。 travellers from the Shire； I should say； begging your pardon 。 often； and we like to hear a bit of news； or any story or song you may have in mind。 But as you please！ Ring the bell； if you lack anything！'
So refreshed and encouraged did they feel at the end of their supper （about three quarters of an hour's steady going； not hindered by unnecessary talk） that Frodo； Pippin； and Sam decided to join the pany。 Merry said it would be too stuffy。 'I shall sit here quietly by the fire for a bit； and perhaps go out later for a sniff of the air。 Mind your Ps and Qs； and don't fet that you are supposed to be escaping in secret； and are still on the highroad and not very far from the Shire！'
'All right！' said Pippin。 'Mind yourself！ Don't get lost； and don't fet that it is safer indoors！'
The pany was in the big monroom of the inn。 The gathering was large and mixed； as Frodo discovered； when his eyes got used to the light。 This came chiefly from a blazing logfire； for the three lamps hanging from the beams were dim； and half veiled in smoke。 Barliman Butterbur was standing near the fire； talking to a couple of dwarves and one or two strangelooking men。 On the benches were various folk： men of Bree； a collection of local hobbits （sitting chattering together）； a few more dwarves； and other vague figures difficult to make out away in the shadows and ers。
As soon as the Shirehobbits entered； there was a chorus of wele from the Breelanders。 The strangers； especially those that had e up the Greenway； stared at them curiously。 The landlord introduced the newers to the Breefolk； so quickly that； though they caught many names； they were seldom sure who the names belonged to。 The Men of Bree seemed all to have rather botanical （and to the Shirefolk rather odd） names； like Rushlight； Goatleaf； Heathertoes； Appledore； Thistlewool and Ferny （not to mention Butterbur）。 Some of the hobbits had similar names。 The Mugworts； for instance； seemed numerous。 But most of them had natural names； such as Banks； Brockhouse； Longholes； Sandheaver； and Tunnelly； many of which were used in the Shire。 There were several Underhills from Saddle； and as they could not imagine sharing a name without being related； they took Frodo to their hearts as