[Nurumaiel]

Blanco and Posco joined their friends by the fireplace, chuckling in delight over their newly-acquired mugs of beer. Blanco peered into Bingo's mug and shook his head in a gesture of despair. When would Bingo learn how good ale was? He never would drink it, but was forever sipping at hot tea. Hot tea was good, of course, but when you were at a bar... It was funny the way the two of them had met. Blanco had been walking along by the Brandywine and had seen the oddest little hobbit sitting by the water. It had been Bingo, who confessed he couldn't swim. Blanco had pointed out to him the dangers of sitting so close to the water when he couldn't swim. Bingo had been quite surprised. Bingo had always been ignorant and innocent. Blanco had invited Bingo to come have tea with him. They had just become friends after that. That had been a year ago.

Posco nudged his twin brother (for Blanco was his twin brother) and pointed across the room with wide eyes. "See, Blanco, there are Elves here."

"How interesting," said Blanco. "Perhaps we should make their acquaintance."

"Oh no!" Posco cried in alarm. "They're Elves."

"Then we'll just sing a rousing song, shall we? What was that song I just heard? Very good song... hum dee dum... it went like so...

"Hey-hee, oh, whatever I see,
If ?tis Bywater, Tuckborough, Buckland, or Bree,
As long as warm faces are looking on me,
Wherever I am will be home."

Posco buried himself deep into his chair next to Bingo, hoping not too many people were looking at his brother. When the song ended he breathed a sigh of relief that the ordeal was over, but Blanco paused a moment, drew his eyebrows together, then smiled and kept singing.

"Hey-hood, this ale is good
and puts me in such a cheery mood
all I lack is a fine plate of food
and then wherever I am will be home."

He looked immensely pleased with himself when he finished and Bingo applauded him with a wide smile. Marcho scowled deeply. "How many times have I told you this... you are absolutely no good at writing songs." Blanco frowned back at him and then smiled at Bingo. At least someone appreciated his fine talent. What was Posco looking so embarrassed about? Really, his friends were all quite hopeless! Even Marcho, who was the eldest of them all. And Bingo, the youngest, was the one with sense. How odd the Shire was.

Posco crouched miserably in his chair and hoped none of the Elves had heard the song. Blanco was constantly humiliating himself in front of hobbits, and that was bad enough, but with Elves it was unbearable. What about the poor hobbit whose song and been so brutally mutilated by his foolish brother? Bingo was the only one in their little company who was safe to be around.