[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

'We could fight a duel anyway if you'd like.'

Squatter was loath to turn down a good duel on the grounds of pointlessness alone, and he had thought of a way to get round the rule about weapons: 'We could fight with French loaves. That way we can eat the evidence if anyone tries to stop us!' He took a flask from his pocket and sipped delicately, very pleased with this new scheme, and at that moment Diamond dropped her bombshell.

Actually he missed the announcement, as his manly attention was occupied in sweeping the hall for a couple of bready sabres. He became aware of the sudden attention only when several rather bright lights converged on him at once, which he chose to acknowledge by raising both hands above his head. Swiftly remembering where he was he turned this gesture into a wave and walked to the stage accompanied by music so incidental as almost to be an accident.

Cheerfully returning Diamond's peck on the cheek as he'd seen done in a film once, Squatter took the trophy and made to leave, only at the last moment remembering that he was supposed to say something. Turning rather awkwardly to the podium he cleared his throat and launched into a slightly slurred speech even more improvised than his presentation address.

'Thank-you, Diamond; congratulations again on your award. It's nice to be up here receiving one in return, and I can only hope with so many to keep track of that you've given me the right one.'

With this he checked the trophy theatrically before continuing.

'Revered founder; fellow spirits: I am flabbergasted. There was I expecting to be arrested and now here I am receiving an award. I knew it was a good idea leaving out the bit about collecting spare parts, but that's another story.

I'd like to thank all those who responded so favourably to my account, and to encourage all those who expressed an interest to pay a visit to the grave of the man I like to think of as Member Number 1 (within cemetery opening hours, I might add: that fence is lethal) as soon as they can. Thanks to him for giving us all something to talk about, to the Chief Wight for giving us somewhere to do it and to his able assistants for making sure that our conversations are worth reading. I shall now go and tell my pawnbroker to clear a space on his mantlepiece. Thank you all!'

With that he turned dramatically, a gesture that was spoiled only by his slipping on the polished stage and having to grab the podium for support; then made his way back to his seat, where he began to explain to all who couldn't avoid him the relative merits of bloomers and French sticks as weapons on the field of honour.