"...and the foul villain turned out to be none other than the Mouth of Sauron, trying to set himself up as a new dark lord in the north, if you will believe me."
"She'll believe you all right," Eodwine said over the last bits of his third helping of apple cobbler. "Quite good this repast!"
"So there we were in the farthest reaches of
the Hills of Evendim, and this poor lout was tied down to the fiend's altar, and there I was, sneaking on my quiet Hobbit feet, knife in hand, and I leapt over the altar and fell upon the fiend from above!"
"You did no such thing," Eodwine smirked.
"Now don't go messing up the tale," Falco scolded.
"I needn't try, you do quite well on your own." Eodwine brought his fourth mug of ale to his lips to hide his grin.
"Don't listen to him, Lady Saeryn," Falco said, he's just sour grapes that he had to be rescued instead of the other way abouts. So long story short-"
"As if that were possible any longer," Eodwine interrupted.
"Long story short," Falco enunciated broadly, staring narrowly at Eodwine, I cut down the fiend, then cut the Big Lout loose. He proceeded to trip into the fiend as he tried to get off the altar, and knocked him into the evil spirit the fiend had trapped, and both flew into the east together, never to bother the West again."
"At least as far as we know," Eodwine commented.
"Master Eodwine! Do not scare the young lady!"
"I am sure she is quite in a state of abject terror from the frightening way you relate the tale."
"Speak Common, you Big Lout! I can't understand you when you throw all those Elvish borrowings in! Too much schooling! Nothing's worse for a body, I say."
"And what of you, Saeryn?" asked Eodwine, "What tales have you to share tonight?"