It was a cold, rainy day in the Shire, so grimly chill that my breath steamed. The puddles were good for growing things, I am sure, but better for splashing in. A group of travelers shot some shocked and stern looks my way. Should I act my age?
I stopped to converse with a Bounder near Buckleberry Ferry. He was in good spirits despite being soaked through.
Actually he was quite grumpy and refused to speak with me at all.
How about this weather we're having? No?
