Hilde loitered about the buffet table with a plate. She had decided to sample a little of everything, well almost every thing. Some things were beyond a hobbits taste buds. “There is so much to try I am certain to rack up the miles just making trips to replenish my plate”, she thought with relish. “How utterly practical to walk and enjoy such lovely dishes at the same time! Excuse me please” she said to the group of armour plates ladies with stern expressions hovering at the entrée table. “I won’t be a minute.”
Just then Mr. B. tapped on her shoulder, startling her. Turning, she found her husband in a blood stained apron reeking of whiskey. “Dear, what have you been doing?!”
“Helping in the kitchen, my frog. Honestly, people these days just don’t know how to handle meat. Why the fare they have for the orcs is unspeakable. I know it was short notice but it hasn’t even been aged properly. You just don’t get the same bouquet and texture. We must be culturally sensitive!”
“Well, Mister B., all things I have tried have been excellent! In fact I was quite excited to hear they have Balrog Wings here, though try as I might I just don’t see any!”
|