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stem face a pair of keen grey eyes.'I am called Strider,' he said in a low voice. 'I am very pleased to meet you. Master - Underhill, if old Butterbur got your name right.''He did,' said Frodo stiffly. He felt far from Took, encouraged by his success with the fat Mayor of Michel Delving, was now actually giving a comic account of Bilbo's farewell party. He was already giving an imitation of the Speech, and was drawing near to the astonishing Disappearance.Frodo was annoyed. It was a harmless enough tale for most of the local hobbits, no doubt: just a funny comfortable under the stare of those keen eyes.'Well, Master Underhill,' said Strider, 'if I were you, I should stop your young friends from talking too much. Drink, fire, and chance-meeting are pleasant enough, but, well - this isn't the Shire. There are queer folk about. Though I say it as shouldn't, you may think,' he added with a wry smile, seeing Frodo's glance. 'And there have been even stranger travellers through Bree lately,' he went on, watching Frodo's face.Frodo returned his gaze but said nothing; and Strider made no further sign. His attention seemed suddenly to be fixed on Pippin. To his alarm Frodo became aware that the ridiculous young
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