Boring Old Mirkwood

It was a night like any other, mostly because every night is pretty much the same when you live in a place like Mirkwood, when Mablung Ancalímon and Finrod Elanessë walked into the Bloated Spider.

Evening Gents, came the familiar greeting of Myfanwy, what can I get for my two favourite regulars?
Two pints of your finest mead, Myfanwy. Mablung said as the two sat down at the bar.
Myfanwy nodded and busied herself at the other end of the counter.

Call it an elf's intuition, but I don't quite believe it when she tells us we're here favourite regulars. Finrod said, as the sound of Myfanwy welcoming another two of her favourite customers went unnoticed to the two.

It wasn't long before Myfanwy was back with their drinks and the two sat sipping for a while before Mablung broke the silence. Nothing interesting's happened around these parts for so long! he said with a sigh, One almost wishes there was a war on.

Finrod nodded in agreement, and silence resumed. Unbeknownst to the two at the bar, a strange creature, pale and gangling ran past the wide window to the pub, wailing something that sounded very much like , followed by two guards. Finrod looked up suddenly, Lólindir Calafalas' horse got foot-rot the other day!

Mablung looked unimpressed. That old nag's been on it's last legs for years, that's not news. And the two sat quietly once again.

There was another strange noise outside, and all of the patrons looked out of the window to see a long line of dwarves being marched towards the Halls of Thranduil, complaining loudly. Mablung and Finrod were staring at their half empty glasses of mead.

Suddenly, Finrod jumped up again, I suppose you heard what that no good daughter of Fëanáro Elendar got up to last month? and Mablung nodded fervently.
Oh yes! That no good harlot! he cried, Personally, I blame the parents,
Yes, you remember of course what old Fëanáro used to get up to when we were young-

Myfanwy had appeared with two more glasses of mead, There's more gossip comes from you two than at the bitter old mother-in-law booth at the annual hobbit wives knitting convention! she said, laughing, Here, get your moaning gear around these, on the house!

Mablung and Finrod thanked Myfanwy who told them to think nothing of it loves, and went back to wiping down the counter.

Silence descended upon the two elves once again, and they went back to sipping their mead thoughtfully.

Neither paid any attention to the small argument that had escalated into a brawl that went on behind them. Myfanwy shouted before leaping over the bar and glassing the two who started the fight and throwing them from the pub.

Normality returned to the Bloated Spider, and after glaring some patrons into righting the tables they had knocked over, Myfanwy returned to her place behind the bar.

The silence was broken by Mablung. Fancy a game of darts? he asked.
Might as well. Finrod said, yawning, nothing else going on around here.

And it is as the two disenchanted elves meander their way towards the dart board, that we, gentle reader, leave the quiet sanctuary of the Bloated Spider.

Until next time, I bid you goodnight, and for crying out loud, use a beer mat!