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"I'll pick it up," Eodwine offered.
"Falco said to them, 'No, not a bath, but something worse still. And not just Ferny but his whole gang.'
"'That's to my liking,' said Twiddle with his face scrunching smile.
"'The more the merrier,' said Gob.
"'At least so long as we're merry watchin' 'em squirm,' returned Twiddle.
"'So what have you got in mind?' Falco asked.
"'Meet us after sundown in a place you name, and we'll tell you then,' Gob said.
"'An' a merry meetin' it's been to you, lousy lot of ruffians, an' don't you come near the ol' Three Farthing Stone tonight or I'll make as sure as sure that there's enough hobbits there to string the both of you,' Falco said with a wink, and moved on.
"And so the two slackers passed their shovels from side to side and sloughed some dirt from here to there, slouching and almost slumbering on their feet, whispering between them with all the sizzle on their tongues that couldn't be seen in their hands.
"Night came and they slipped their way to the Three Farthing Stone where they found as sure as they knew the hairs on their knuckles the dozen or so hobbits they expected to find there."
Eodwine stopped and quaffed his mead.
"And there I must end my part of the tale because I'm daft if I know what Gob and Twiddle had planned."
"What!" cried Falco. "You've led us this merry way not knowing the lynchpin of your yarn?" (Falco could mix metaphors with the best and the worst of them, take your pick.)
"I was hoping for a little help with that, but everybody keeps skirting the real tale just as much as I've been doing, and I can't blame 'em." Eodwine shrugged and held up his hands in a gesture of defeat.
Falco though he was bluffing.
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