Elfred Thistle had eaten two bowls of Miss Violet's good stew, with plenty of bread for sopping and some good pickle, served by that saucy new bar maid, Holly. Nop had had a bowl and a half, (plus whatever he could lick out of the remains of Elfred's bowls), and was dozing in front of the fire.
Elfred nursed his long pipe into life, took a satisfied pull on his half pint, and put his long, furry grey feet up in front of the fire.
There had been some good songs and jokes going around the inn tonight, but the most entertainment was to be found in watching the interactions of the Elves and Dwarves. Elfred had never seen so many of the Fair Folk, and he wondered what they spoke of in their quiet speech. But it was the flamboyant speeches and gestures of the Mountain Folk that almost made the Hobbit want to stand up and applaud. It was as good as any mummer at the Mid-Summer fair.
"Those Dwarves sure know their way around the words." said Elf to Nop. "Sound as good as any King in a Pantomine. So how would you address yourself if you were a Dwarf, Nop? 'All Hail! I be Nop, Son of Nip, from the lofty heights of Bree-Hill.' Sound about right, Nop?"
Nop waved his tail lazily at the sound of his master's voice and smiled. But being so comfortable, he did not bother to raise his head.
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