"How are you feeling, Saeryn?" Eodwine asked.
"Eazup on the <urp> poor lass, Master Eodwine!" said Garreth. "Do you not she that s-she is just g-gaining her <ulp> bearings?"
Eodwine clicked his tongue. "Right you are, Garreth. So! Let us put her, and the lad Faleron the more at ease by telling a bit about ourselves. How about you, Garreth? Your tongue seems to be mostly untied."
Garreth looked at Eodwine through stout addled eyes, vainly seeking an insult in his words. "I am nod s-sure I like your <ulp> tone."
Harreld copped him one across the head. "You've gone an' addled your wits tryin' to drink as much as me," he said. "He's saying your tongue's loosened by your drink."
"Oh!" Garreth grinned stupidly. "That's well enough then." Then he scowled at Harreld. "I'll th-thank you nod to go clipping me or I'll <urp> hammer you!"
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Eodwine said. "Garreth, start us out!"
"Right," said the more loquacious of the twins. "Me, I'm looging for a wife (gulp)." He eyed Saeryn meaningfully, and slightly cross-eyed. "If you know what I mean. Someone margeable - ah - marriger - ah - marriagerble - ah - a lass willing to wed."
Harreld clipped him again. "You dunderhead."
Garreth turned on him ferociouly. "That does it! Call me a Dunlending, will you! Well doesn't that make
you a fool, seeing as you're my twin!"
"Dunderhead, you ninny, not Dunlending."
"I never done no lending that I haven't returned! Er, no borrowing that I haven't lent! Er, no lending that I didn't-" Garreth stopped in confusion and stared into his mostly empty ale cup, then raised it. "More ale! More ale!"
"Poor sot," murmured Harreld to the rest of them. "He never could hold his ale as well as me." He winked to Saeryn, dark stout dripping from his beard and onto his tunic.