[Imladris]

Gorby

I listened with some dismay between the fiery shots between elf and hobbit; unfortunately, I did not understand what exactly they were saying: I just knew they were contesting the character of Falowik and if the Fair One said he was good, well, to my mind he was good. Besides, agreeing with Falco would be like hurling an insult at myself saying that I would stoop to his vain pride. Glancing at his discomfurture, the ale dripping down in rivulets down his vine vest, his copper buttons becoming tarnished, I could not help but snicker and say, "Ale is good for the soul, in more ways than one." Good for cheering up and good for taking one down a peg or two, I said to myself, winking at Anson. He grinned back at me and winked at Nob.

I laughed as Lumiel made her remark, but became quiet when she asked when we were leaving. In one sense, I wished to stay with this merry group as we lounged round the wooden table, wooden mugs full of foaming ales in front of us. And yet, the adventure had the tiniest bit of allure in it: I suppose that my adventure side was rising and growing just a mite stronger. The Brandybuck blood. You had to love it and at times you had to hate it, especially when it made you skip second breakfasts or worst when it made you skip dinner.