Prompt: Friends Forever
I was challenged to use the word "hops" by someone. All right. Here you go! ;)
"What is this plant, Gimli?" I grimace. It stinks.
Gimli turns, and his eyes get that gleam that warns me. "What? Master Elf, you don't know hops when you see it? Why, I thought Elves knew every plant that grew under the sun!"
"And a few that grow underground." I arch an eyebrow. "Since when do Dwarves plant and harvest crops?" His indignant sputters make me smile and I have to hide it as he bristles and fusses with his beard.
"What you do not know about Dwarves, Master Elf, would likely make up more books than Master Elrond has in that library of his! Why, we Dwarves are perfectly capable of ..."
I pay slight attention to his rant as he goes on. Oh, Gimli, you're so wonderfully predictable! What shall I do when the white hairs dusting your beard outnumber the auburn, and your eyes grow dim? When the fiery spirit within you dies to glowing embers and your bones begin to ache? It will happen. 'Tis only a matter of time.
I have only time, but he... I cannot bear to think on it. "All right, Gimli. Let's go sample this beer of yours."
