Arvedui paused before the gates of the grand hall and lit his pipe. The fragrant pipeweed wafted out as a good draw led to another as he watched the security Uruks argue over the Orc-draught they had hidden in the leather bag. With a chuckle, Arvedui now felt ready to go in to the hall. He tamped out the ember and slid the pipe into his cloak and pushed open the door.
There were folk about in various states of innebriation and dress and such, for the party had been going on for some time. Arvedui made his way toward the bar in hopes of getting a tankard of ale, and the tired looking barkeep asked what he wished.
'A good ale, whatever you have will be fine.' Arvedui said.
"Well," The bartender said, "we are pretty much out of beverage, being a three year birthday bash and all. We do have some dregs of this Mordorian Red left. I may get a tankard if I tip the keg."
Arvedui nodded and looked around. There were some movement usually accompanied with a moan, along with the few who were conscience. After 5 minutes of tapping the ale, the tankard was passed and Arvedui lifted it up and said,
'To Barrow Downs 3rd year! I am glad to be a part of it!'
He sipped down a good portion as he leaned back against the bar.
__________________
When Elendil fell, Isildur departed to take up the high kingship of his father, and committed the rule of the south in like manner to the son of his brother. He did not relinquish his royalty in Gondor, nor intend that the realm of Elendil should be divided forever.
|