Merry began to draw the pint as he listened to the man's words. He'd heard of America from many of the others here, but he really had no clear idea of where it was. He was a well-traveled hobbit, to be sure, but some places were far beyond his knowledge. He did know that there were many people from America here, but the name meant little to him.
He sat the pint in front of the man before answering his question.
"Buckland," he answered. "In the Shire. My father's the Master of Buckland, and I'll follow him, in time. Not in any hurry to inherit, though."
He looked at him for a moment, wondering if he'd have to clarify. Most of the Big People, even i his day, didn't know where the Shire was, unless they were from Bree, which was so close that they couldn't ignore it.
"It's far to the North West," he said finally. "West of the Misty Mountains and Rivendell. If you know where Bree is, well, it's just west of there."