The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"The mead or the story, lass?" asked Saeryn with a light laugh. "Though I'll warrant he wouldn't be all together upset with either. Perhaps I'll continue the story until he returns?"

Heads nodded with encouraging smiles and Saeryn took a small sip of her mead before clearing her throat in an obviously exaggerated way.

"Their plan, as it were, had very little to do with the Shire, and slightly less to do with Sharkey. You see, it had to do with them both based on a shared letter system, as the plan involved a capital 'S', a small 'h', an 'r', and an 'e', but what with the all-important missing "iaky", it was obvious to all that Sharkey and the Shire played merely a hastily fabricated role in what the men spoke of.

And so Gob and Twiddle whispered back and forth about the plan they would soon implement. They swiftly chose a name for this plan so that if they were to be overheard, nobody would know their business. "Sherbet", they called it, and a very interesting plan it was."

Saeryn leaned back a bit, sipping her mead and wishing devoutly for a chair with a back so that she could recline, perhaps tipping the chair back, and give that truely wonderful visual of one with no care in the world. She gestured softly to the newcomer, Brokhelm, motioning for him to continue her silly tangent.