Not being much of a dancer, the Barrow-Wight excused himself and quickly returned to the keg where he was staring over the rim of his mug when Mithadan approached. The two had been friends for many years and he strangely considered the man a friend – at least he had never tried to abduct and sacrifice him. No! I will not think it again! The wight stood up tall and leaned on a nearby tree.
“Fancy shirt ya got there,” he said. “Sew it yourself?”
Mithadan rolled his eyes and raised his harp.
“I thought I heard your awful racket!” moaned the Barrow-Wight. “What on Middle-earth led you to do a Beverly Hillbillies parody? I though we were buddies.”
He offered the man a full mug with a wicked, drooling grin.
“No poison,” he said. “Promise”
[ May 20, 2002: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]
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The Barrow-Wight
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