The Sword of Eärendil
Chapter 3, Merry, Pippin, and a whole lot of Ale
Standing on Bilbo's porch, I admired the beautiful landscape of Hobbiton. Most of the Hobbit families were up and about. There was a rather large field some distance away from Bag-End, where the preparations for Bilbo's birthday party were being made. Several yellow and white striped pavilions had already been erected, and a large sign that said 'Happy Birthday Bilbo' in the fancy script of upper-crust hobbit-folk.
As I stood there, two fairly young hobbits made their way to Bag-End. I glanced at them, and instantly recognized the pair as Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. "Oi!" called Merry, "Are you the fellow Gandalf found?"
"Yes," I responded, not knowing what to expect from the two notorious troublemakers.
"Er, we were wondering if you'd like to join us for an ale or two, at the Green Dragon Inn." I agreed, and before I knew it, I was at the Green Dragon.
A rather fat, jaunty hobbit approached the three of us at our table. "So, what'll it be today Mister Brandybuck?"
"Um, the usual. Pippin?"
"I'll have the usual as well,"
"And what shall your friend here have?"
Merry whispered something into the bartender's ear. A somewhat evil grin fell across the fat man's face, and he quickly ran off to fetch us our drinks.
"Merry, what did you just order for me?"
"Oh, don't worry, just a specialty ale is all." Merry and Pippin looked at each other, trying to contain the fits of laughter that were about to follow. The Bartender, who I later learned was named Roth Miggs, came back, hand both Merry and Pippin a mug of ale. What he handed me was well, different. It was green, and was constantly bubbling and frothing. The two hobbits quickly downed their mugs and ordered more.
Ten minutes and six mugs of ale later, I was still staring blankly at the concoction of green-bubbly stuff. "C'mon, *Hic* take a sip, it'll taste *Hic* good," Pippin said, clearly quite drunk. Still not entirely sure of what it would do, I decided, against my better judgment, to take a gulp of the stuff. An intense burning filled my throat, and it spread to the very tips of my fingers. This pain subsided after a few seconds, and a brilliantly delicious aftertaste fill my mouth. It was incredibly, well, awesome! I had to have more.
By the time I had finished the mug, my body had gotten used to the strange burning, and so I only got the aftertaste. I ordered two more, and Roth got progressively entertained. After I finished my third refill, I decided to leave. Merry and Pippin followed me out, and were laughing quite loudly, and pointing drunkenly at me. Roth excused himself from work, and followed me.
Standing on Bilbo's porch, I admired the beautiful landscape of Hobbiton. Most of the Hobbit families were up and about. There was a rather large field some distance away from Bag-End, where the preparations for Bilbo's birthday party were being made. Several yellow and white striped pavilions had already been erected, and a large sign that said 'Happy Birthday Bilbo' in the fancy script of upper-crust hobbit-folk.
As I stood there, two fairly young hobbits made their way to Bag-End. I glanced at them, and instantly recognized the pair as Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. "Oi!" called Merry, "Are you the fellow Gandalf found?"
"Yes," I responded, not knowing what to expect from the two notorious troublemakers.
"Er, we were wondering if you'd like to join us for an ale or two, at the Green Dragon Inn." I agreed, and before I knew it, I was at the Green Dragon.
A rather fat, jaunty hobbit approached the three of us at our table. "So, what'll it be today Mister Brandybuck?"
"Um, the usual. Pippin?"
"I'll have the usual as well,"
"And what shall your friend here have?"
Merry whispered something into the bartender's ear. A somewhat evil grin fell across the fat man's face, and he quickly ran off to fetch us our drinks.
"Merry, what did you just order for me?"
"Oh, don't worry, just a specialty ale is all." Merry and Pippin looked at each other, trying to contain the fits of laughter that were about to follow. The Bartender, who I later learned was named Roth Miggs, came back, hand both Merry and Pippin a mug of ale. What he handed me was well, different. It was green, and was constantly bubbling and frothing. The two hobbits quickly downed their mugs and ordered more.
Ten minutes and six mugs of ale later, I was still staring blankly at the concoction of green-bubbly stuff. "C'mon, *Hic* take a sip, it'll taste *Hic* good," Pippin said, clearly quite drunk. Still not entirely sure of what it would do, I decided, against my better judgment, to take a gulp of the stuff. An intense burning filled my throat, and it spread to the very tips of my fingers. This pain subsided after a few seconds, and a brilliantly delicious aftertaste fill my mouth. It was incredibly, well, awesome! I had to have more.
By the time I had finished the mug, my body had gotten used to the strange burning, and so I only got the aftertaste. I ordered two more, and Roth got progressively entertained. After I finished my third refill, I decided to leave. Merry and Pippin followed me out, and were laughing quite loudly, and pointing drunkenly at me. Roth excused himself from work, and followed me.