"Jamsway Siman I am," he said to the bartender, "But I prefer Jams if you will."
Startled, the bartender turned around in a hurrry to see a little hobbit of the shire who had managed to climb up on to the bar stool.
"What can I get for yeh, uhh.. Jams you said?"
Reaching into his pocket the hobbit started pulling out a peice of paper with something scribbled on it. But, being as that the chair was as elavated as it was, and Jams, not being the most elegant of hobbits, he lost his balance and soon enough, there lay a hobbit, ripe for stepping on.
For a moment, Jams lay stunned, thinking, "my my, I dont think I've EVER fallen off a chair that high before." And for that instant he just lay there, looking up at all the tall people, the elves, the humans, even the drunken dwarf at the tables seemed massive to him."
"Hey, you down there. Get up off my floor before some one steps on you!"
Reluctantly Jams sat up and this time, went around the bar and spoke to the man.
"Dear sir, as I was about to be saying before my little accident there. I could use a special blend for myself. I've got a headache you can't shake a stick at and I could use some 'special blend', if you follow me."
He handed the paper to the bar keep. Eyeing it over the keep raised his eyebrow. "You sure you can handle this? I don't think even the most reckless dwarf could handle this foul brew."
"Aye, I can take it." Jams replied starting to get impatient. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be at the bar--" he turned, remembering the stool indicent, "actully, come to think of it, I'll be sitting by the fire."
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