Under the Influence
Ouch.
"Drink this, my lord. You'll feel better."
"Thank you… Narthan?"
"Yes, my lord?"
"What exactly happened last night?"
"We went to The Swan's Nest, sir."
"And?"
"My lord, you indulged in too much drink, you…"
"What did I do?"
"Forgive me, my lord, but you took Beleth in your arms, kissed her soundly and declared your undying love for her, and bought everyone in the tavern a dozen rounds."
"Beleth… She's…?"
"The blonde wench, my lord."
"Ah. Yes. What else?"
"Er, there was nothing else, my lord."
"If I do not hear it from you, I'll hear it elsewhere."
"Well, there was the epic storytelling contest."
"I told an epic?"
"As fantastic a tale as I've ever heard, sir."
"What was it about?"
"Oh, many things, sir: a stolen princess, a massive armada of our ships, a great wooden swan, and a ten-year war, for starters. And that was before you were enchanted by a quartet of scantily-clad Elves, or held captive by Yavanna Herself."
"Really?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did I say anything else especially embarrassing?"
"Aside from accidentally declaring war on Umbar: no."
"My father must not hear of this, Narthan."
"I've already worked out an alibi, my lord."