The Hungry Hobbit

The shopkeeper looked at him while holding out some clothes and spoke. ''Try it on lad.''

Archer nodded as he took them and walked to the room the older man pointed at. He entered and started to try them on.

Slipping into the tunic, he felt the fabric's soft touch against his skin. It was smooth and caressed him like a gentle breeze.

As he adjusted the tunic over his shoulders, he couldn't help but notice how well it fit, hugging his frame without restricting his movements.

His fingers traced the tasteful violet decorations, the intricate patterns a testament to the craftsmanship that went into creating the attire.

They seemed to dance beneath his touch, each swirl and curve blending seamlessly with the rich black material.

Archer turned to the side, admiring himself in the mirror. The tunic flowed elegantly, its lines following his form with precision.