[Kransha]

The gentle roar of Snaveling was more than enough to wake Tobias Hornblower. He was perked up within instants, color returning to his face, his bloodshot eyes widened orbs of light, and his features buzzing with movement. His drunken trance was lifted like a morbid cloud flowing away, leaving only a warmth and sunlight in the gentlehobbit’s visage. He heard the finality of Snaveling’s words and turned, sitting upright in his chair as he regained a finer posture.

“By the Shire, you’re right, Snaveling. I do apologize for being such a dreadfully dreary fellow, but I swear by all the pipe-weed in Longbottom that I’ll make up for it. Tonight is a night for partying, Snaveling, and I intend to show my worth on the subject. You and I are going to have something that, I believe has oft eluded us of late…fun. Yes indeed, my friend, we are going to make the best of this.”

The elder hobbit was about to rise, pushing up on the ample arms of the chair, but sagged back down for a moment and raised a halting finger before Snaveling could ascend. He reached slowly into the crenellated corners of his vest and coat, stabbing about in unseen darkness with his knobby fingers.

“But first, Snaveling, I must compose a brief letter. Just a moment, if you please.”

From his prodigious inner vest, Toby drew out a fine quill and a narrow scrap of parchment, which he lay down ceremoniously on the nearby table. He leaned over, hunching his back, and pulled a protective arm around to shield the letter from view. Even though he knew Snaveling was aware of the purse’s contents, he wanted the letter itself to be unknown. He quickly began slashing away at the parchment with the quill pen, dipping it curtly in an ink pan which he also produced, popping off the lid and setting it beside his newly arranged work desk on the table. He began to write.

Dear Miss Amanduial, most fair innkeeper of the Green Dragon,

As is my knowledge, over the course of the last weeks, you and the valiant denizens of the Green Dragon have gone through many hardships and woes, but have strived enough to get us all where we are this jovial night. Though I am ashamed to admit it, I have not been a great help during these hard times and, in fact, have acted more as a hindrance. I could merely apologize, but that would be no more than a weak gesture on my part. Instead, I have mustered together this, a gift, to be used however you see fit to help the Green Dragon in the future. The purse you hold contains no more and no less than eleven coins, one for each letter in ‘Green Dragon.’ I pray you take this gift and consider my debt at least partially paid. I wish you good fortune for as long as you require it.

Sincerely, Tobias Hornblower the Third

Concluding the note with his signature execution of a intricate flourish, scribbling his name in larger, heavily inked calligraphy and pulling up the quill swiftly. He admired the stylish cursive before rolling the note into a miniscule scroll and sealing it with a slim piece of crimson ribbon that he’d produced from one of his many pockets. After tossing the scroll in his hand momentarily, he took it between his index finger and thumb as he handed it, holding the note like a fine porcelain cup, to Snaveling.

“Now, good Snaveling, do me the great favor of giving both note and purse to Miss Aman, and then return so that we may begin reveling in the merriness and jollity of the surrounding festivities.”