Immersive Ink

Willie claps the boy on the shoulder: "Well done, lad!"

Then he marvels at the bottle cap. "Ingenious!"

He pockets the cap from his drink absentmindedly.

"Well," Dougal says with a sigh, "Let's get these bags unloaded and check out those pancakes. All this shire talk is making me hungry."

He begins unloading the cart, once the farmer has it pulled into position.

"Mighty fine root beer, I really need to learn how to make this. My complements for the repast & cannot wait to taste your pancakes"< says Chegs to the lads, before getting back to work.

Soon enough the crew has stacked the turnips in their storage bin and neatly loaded the farmer's wagon with sacks of flour bound for the hobbet lands. Coins change hands and the farmer bows respectfully. "Please thank your father, young sirs. I'll be back after lunch to pick up my oxen."

Turning to the Hobbet Heroes, the farmer says the long-awaited words, "And now, who's up for PANCAKES?"

The Hornpipe Hill House of Pancakes is across the street from the miller's farmstead, on top of the hill, next door to the windmill. As the Hobbets climb the path, they are struck what a fine old hill it is: an ancient limestone hill, no doubt riddled with miles of tunnels and caverns.

The House of Pancakes is a modest building, a mere shack by human standards, but well-kept and welcoming. A human would need to stoop to enter, but a Hobbet feels right at home. Inside is a small dining room with three round tables and a dozen hobbet-sized chairs, plus counter seating for a few more. Behind the counter is a kitchen nook with a diner-style griddle. Mounted on the wall behind the counter is an antique hand axe with a plaque that reads "Chopper."

There are two Hobbets at the table nearest the hearth. Both look like they are in rough shape. The female does not look up from her pancakes or otherwise acknowledge the newcomers. Her skin and clothing are singed, and she has no eyebrows. She wears leather armor and carries a sword at her waist. The male wears leather armor and has one arm in a sling. His spear leans against the wall. He smiles, revealing a mouth full of broken teeth, and waves to the farmer with his good hand.

"Douglas! Fi-" calls Farmer Skip before the friendly stranger cuts him off with a Shhh! gesture.

"hi Douglas... hi Fiona..." the farmer whispers, and waves hello.

Douglas points to the kitchen, makes the shhh again, and waves for Skip and the others to join him at the table.

Our Heroes glance toward the kitchen area and hear the sound of loud snoring coming from behind the counter.

Dougal follows Farmer Skip to the table, wondering aloud (but in a quiet tone), "Sounds like our cook is sleepin'... might be a delay on the pancakes. But these two look interesting enough..."

Willie senses adventure, and follows Farmer Skip over to the strangers' table, keeping quiet for now.

Chegs though hungry is even more curious so follows but Willie & Skip, he squeezes past Potty. 'scuse me Potty, may I get by? Thank you", he says as he does so gently moving past Potty into the room.

Wot, no pancakes?? Tet's face is ashen. Realising the extreme perilousness of the possibility of missing second breakfast, Tet steels himself with a huff, and follows Chegs.

"Hello Fiona, hello Douglas," whispers the farmer.

"Hewwo Fawmaw Sssskipp," lisps the snaggletoothed fighting-hobbet. After a few pleasantries are exchanged, he gets to the point: "Can we hitch a ride home with you? Fi's had enough of this town, and I need to see the dentist."

"Of course!" the Farmer replies."I'm leaving this afternoon. Will your friends be joining us as well? I seem to remember there are five of you, right?"

There is an awkward pause. Fiona stabs at her pancakes with her fork. Douglas shakes his head and says, "Just us two, Skip. The other three are... gone."

"Well... uh... That sounds like a long story. You can tell me on the ride home. Look, I'm starving and I haven't got all day. I'll be right back. Fiona, Douglas, this is... everybody. Everybody, say hi!"

Farmer Skip excuses himself and approaches the kitchen area. He raps his knuckles on the countertop and calls, "Wake up, Frederick! You have customers!!"

A doughy middle-aged Hobbet pops up from behind the counter. "Whaaa? Huh? Oh, Mister Pebbles! So good to see you! And who are these lads? New friends from home?"

"Yes, Frederick. They are hard workers. Put their meal on my tab, okay?"

"Why of course. Hello new friends! I am Frederick the Eighth, great-great-great-great-GREAT-grandson of Original Frederick. And you are? Today's menu is featuring keen-wah pancakes, potato pancakes, or puffball mushroom crepes. What will it be?"