The first thing Elfred did as the wargs crashed into the inn was to scoop up Nop, who set up a frantic scrambling in his arms as he raged at the beasts who had dared sully this place of Men folk. Elfred's arms were covered by scratches from Nop's claws, even through the thick wool of his shirt.
A sharp command from his master finally made the sheepdog still in his arms, but Nop continued to voice low growls, while his yellow, but still sharp teeth were bared at the intruders.
Elfred looked longingly at his crook, mere inches away beside the table, but he could not grasp it without releasing Nop; and this he would not do, for the little collie would immediately attack, and would be doomed fighting three Wargs in such close quarters.
"Nop, you're right, it's that un-natural for these fell beasts to be in the very heart of the Shire, waltzing into the Green Dragon as if they were just folks. Makes me reconsider my choice of accomodations, it does."
"But for now," he said, glaring at his and Nop's most hated enemies, "it seems we must attend to a tale."
[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]
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