[Mithadan]

The Wight wandered unsteadily through the crowd carrying his half-empty pint. Lacking significant physical substance, it did not take much to make him a wee bit tipsy. For the moment, he was free of the cats; they were busily feasting upon the remains of what the Hobbit had called a "Foodfight". Strange. Why fight with food? Blades were far more effective.

He found himself before one of the feasting tables. It bore an impressive array of delicacies. He selected a pasty on the very edge of the table, which was the subject of attention for a number of ants. Munching happily upon the pasty and its moving garnish, he wondered why the Barrow-Wight had never thrown a dinner party. He finished the first pasty and selected a second, heaping additional ants on it from a nearby plate. Delicious! I must get the name of the caterer.