[Rimbaud]

Halfullion yawned langorously and wondered briefly whether he had enough clean laundry for a long trip. Thinking of his saddlebags brought his great steed Tofu to his mind. It was at this point that a connection between the smell of roasting horse and absent Giant Wyrm was made in his underemployed grey matter.

“By gum!” he exclaimed, and dashed off, thoroughly confusing the merchant Dwarf who had produced several packs of the required masticatory substance from his voluminous robes, seemingly now unwanted. Merisuwyniel watched the Lord Gormlessar make his dramatic egress with a pang of envy at his wondrous hair, only enhanced by the swift passage of wind through its finely tuned locks.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Barely out of breath, Halfullion came upon a scene that could only be described by a long descriptive passage. Being in something of a hurry to save his horse, he skipped it and addressed the large diner, who had already consumed one of The Last Grown Homely Cows finest equine residents, Dehdmete.

“Cease, fell beast,” he started bravely. “These fine examples of horse-hood are for riding and company, not luncheon. Hast thou no manners?”

“I’m terribly sorry,” grumbled the dragon, turning a baleful eye upon the tall Knight. “They do not seem to feed larger quests adequately here. Or at all, if it could be said.”

Halfullion was a thoughtful chap and noticed the bale. “Dear Chrysophylax…um…Mr. Dives, you seem to have a bale on your eye.”

“Hay, you’re right,” said the dragon, surprised. “Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it,” said Halfullion. “Now, I suggest that if you fly over to the great dining hall yonder,” and he pointed, “you shall find a more suitable repast.”

“Those heights look particularly wuthering,” said the dragon doubtfully.

“Beg pardon?” pleaded Halfullion with some bemusement. “You mean weathered?”

“Ah, yes. Thank you again,” said Chrysophylax, and took off in the direction so pointed.

Now thinking about lunch, Halfullion decided to suggest it to the gathering Company. He made his way back, to the udder side of the bovine fountain. He discovered the others still deep in converse, not without certain confusion and lack of coherence. He sensed Merisuyniel becoming impatient. He hoped she would not become disgruntled; he infinitely preferred her fully gruntled, and oft-times wished he could supply her with the gruntle she needed, so as never to become disgruntled again.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

His suggestion about lunch had gone down very well with Merisuwyniel, who was fond of eating out, herself. Their gracious host at The Last of the Home Grown Cows, Lord MacDoneld had supplied them all with a most happy meal, but the seated diners, outside in the Bovine Garden, where tables had been brought, were puzzled to see that Halfullion was not eating with them.

“What ails thee, sir?” asked Orogarn Two, eyes as piercing as ever.

“Ah, Tofu carries all the nutrition I require,” replied Halfullion politely. He couldn’t quite reach the great steed’s saddlebags and so had to clamber upon a soapbox to facilitate the process of obtaining lunch. When he had fetched his provisions, he did indeed sit down with them all, and a hearty and enjoyable luncheon was had.