[littlemanpoet]

After draining his tankard to the toast, Falco wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"A fine speech, the kind one would expect from the master of ceremonies. I can tell you of one speech I heard back in the Shire, that was altogether inappropriate, and ended up with the master of ceremonies disappearing before our very eyes, if you will believe me!" Just then he noticed Hilderinc pointing to Lord Athanar.

"Well, Hilderinc, it's a good guest that greets the master of the house on such a special occasion, isn't it."

Hilderinc nodded and allowed the Hobbit to pass by him. Many another Eorling was surprised to find what at first seemed to be an overly dressed child negotiating his way through a crowd of adults, was in actual fact a squirely Hobbit who new how to keep his large hairy feet from getting stepped on, and also knew how to put his best face forward, red as it was from a goodly quantity of ale. At last he reached the table of the lord and lady. He doffed his hat and bowed low in good Hobbit fashion.

"Master Falco Boffin at your service, my lord and lady. You keep a fine hall and first rate board and ale. I'm happy to congratulate you on a fine day's work. My errand was to find my old friend Eodwine, but I've been told that he is not here but is ill in Minas Tirith. I'm sure he would be honored to find such worthy Big People coming in Scarburg's time of need."

With that he stopped and looked at the lord, who seemed a noble fellow. From what Falco could tell, the Man seemed to be the kind who kept his own counsel and thought far more than he ever said. The coolness in the man's eyes suggested he was of the calculating sort. That could be good or bad, depending on whether the lord had good plans or bad. Time would tell. While these thoughts raced through his head, Falco kept his best respectful smile on his face.