“No? What do you mean, no?”
Barliman pointed to the crudely-lettered sign above the
bar. “Can’t you read, Strider? It says ‘No Smokking’. The town
councillors and worthies of Bree have decided that there’s to be no
smoking in the inns or the streets or the town square. I’m sorry,
but you’ll have to put that there pipe of yours out – or leave.”
Aragorn took a last, long draw and inhaled deeply. Then he
knocked the weed out of his pipe and replaced it in his pack
A smoking ban. At the Pony!
Whatever was the world coming to?