[Alkanoonion]

****Harad/Umbar****
The two men picked themselves up out of the gutter and slowly made their way down the road towards the sound of laughter that was escaping out through a doorway in the narrow street.

Fuinur kept tripping over as he attempted to make his way towards the laughter, but with his walking ability somewhat impaired from the grog he would fall down each time he endeavoured to step forward. His legs would wobble and then give way to the bulky body above. Having a pair of legs that refuse to function, as they should, was no deterrent to Fuinur. He would just pick himself up off the ground and return to his unsteady motion. Seth was in no better condition. Rather with every stumble, Seth would collapse along with his friend.

As the pair progressed along with their stumbling mode of travel, Fuinur notice that the enticing sound was getting louder. This seemed to encourage the pair to double their efforts. Where there was laughter there was bound to be more ale.

As the two got closer to the sound they realised that the sound was from a tavern. The tavern was called ‘The Captains Parrot’.
Hanging from hooks above the door was an old wooden sign that had been painted. The painting consisted of a pair of sailor’s pants, which Fuinur had no idea what the pants had to do with a parrot.

The tavern was reputed to being a somewhat more respectable tavern then the previous one and so the tavern owner charged more for the food and grog. This was made up for with its high quality of food, drink and clean interior. Being drunk, all these details meant nothing to the pair, assuming that they had herd of the taverns reputation. All they were concerned with was getting some more ale into their bellies.

Reaching the tavern door, Fuinur flung the door open. A wave of heat, laughter and the smell of stew hit Fuinur and Seth full in the face reminding them that they had not eaten since the noon meal.
A large fire that was roaring in the hearth lighted the tavern. Hanging from a hook was a cauldron filled with the stew that filled the tavern with that delicious aroma that had Fuinur’s mouth watering.
The tavern was crowded and the two men were forced to push their way through to the proprietor who was standing behind a bar.
“Twoo roomsh peass …and some oaf ‘hat steshw peasesss!”

The proprietor was reluctant to sever two customers who obviously were very drunk. However, the proprietor was very conscious of the two men’s strange clothing and dangerous looking weaponry. Not wanting to have his property or his person damaged, he offered to serve the two their stew in a room up stairs. Hopefully the pair would fall asleep.

With the temptation of a good meal, the pair forgot the idea of ale. They collected a bowl of stew each and stumbled their way up the stairs to the room indicated by a lad from the kitchen. The lad prevented both of the grown men from falling down the stairs by pushing both from behind one in front of the other until they were all safely above. The stew was not as fortunate. A great deal of it found its way onto the floor and stairs, much to the proprietor’s wife’s annoyance (the proprietors wife made her husband sorry for letting the two ‘clots’ stay at her nice clean inn, by making him sleep on the floor).

Once inside the room the two drunks flopped onto the two beds. The two quickly polished of the remaining soup and letting the bolls drop to the floor, both men settled in for the night.