The hooded man narrows his eyes, puffs on his short pipe, and says, "A friend of Bombadil, then?" eyeing Waldo's striped garb, his bright hat.

Waldo shakes his head and leaves the Bree inn, in search of a place with taller folk, where he might blend in, be less conspicuous. Perhaps this Bombadil will have the answers; until then, he's content to wander.



(This is the most hilarious prompt ever, btw.)