Nothing Comes Easy
When Boris emerges from the outhouse he sees Sharps standing on the boardwalk, motioning for the hobbit to join him.
When he does he sees the man has something in his hand- a frog on a skewer.
"There's three things ya gotta know when eatin' frog on a stick," Sharps said, through some crunching noises. He swallows.
"First, never eat the heads." He takes the fresh frog, bites the head off and spits it out into the dirt of the street.
"Second, get 'em early in the day. See ol' Tasha there sellin' frogs?" he confides, nodding toward a haggard woman standing behind what is obviously a cart full of fried frogs. "Know what ya don't see? A bucket'a frogs, that's what. They don't want ta be cuttin' and guttin' right here on the street, so they fix up the whole day's run early in the morning. After mid-day the frogs get dry and mebee a lil' gamey, too."
He bites off a leg, chews it exactly once, then swallows. "Third, an' this is important here, frog what come from near to the salty waters taste like a goblin's dick if they don't get out the grist gland. Tasha, here, she's been a frogger on these shores fer more years than she can count. She knows how to do it, don't ya, my beauty?"
Sharps raised his voice.
Hearing her name the frog vendor raises a hand and smiles, her teeth being a most ragged and colorful set.
Sharps waves back, then takes half the frog in a single chomp. "Mmm mmmmm," he coos.
Off the group's odd looks he says, "I get it. Don't look too appetizing, does it? Let me tell ya, I was once stuck in a cave for a week at the Hardship Moors- my leg was broke and a whole squadron of Dashiel infantry was out combin' the surround, searchin' for me an' my mates." He taps his left leg. "The mudmen of the fens kept us safe and fed, but all they eat is worms an' frogs an' eels. No fire, either, bein' as we were livin' on the sly. I got sick the first two days but by the end I could take their food pretty good, because I had no choice. One of my mates passed away from dysentery and starvation. It was hard watchin' him go, but it made me buck up."
Sharps waves the remaining portion of frog on a stick. "Now, this ain't winter fowl with elderberries and brandied apples served on the King's silver at the royal banquet, but considerin' our circumstance-" he motions to the frightened and sparse community they stood in- "it ain't a bad breakfast, either." He consumes the last of the frog and drops the stick to the ground.
"My name's Sharps, or Captain Sharps if you want ta get all fancy and fuss."