"Bah!"
Turgon said with a drunken grin, looking over at the lady that had suddenly appeared at the bar, asking for food.
"The ain't nh Dwarin here, girlll..."
he said with a snort. Pointing at the hobbit, Belin, he then added.
"This hobbitlad just fooled me as well, hick! Dwarin is gone... and missed... or so people say..."
She offered him a glance in the eye, ice cold. As if lightning had struck the old, hardy dwarf, or a ghost was seen when one least expected it, Turgon quickly took his effort, and eyes, back to his mug, that was getting empty.
"E'noher be... hick... er?"
[ January 20, 2003: Message edited by: Falathion ]
__________________
"You cannot pass. I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor!"
|