[Morthoron]

Hobbits. Strange creatures. Never serious, never sane - and now, pie juggling? Absurd! This, the Dark Elf thought as he sheathed his ridiculously overpowered uber-blade in its rune-inscribed scabbard studded with faux-silmarils and richly hand-tooled Rhovanion leather. Of course, the ebon sheathe matched his galvorn hauberk, velvet doublet, tall boots and his capricious elf stallion, Lastobethnintolodannangalad (or just Ed for short). If anything, the Dark Elf was color-coordinated but a bit colloquial regarding naming conventions. But what he was doing in a tree in such attire while his long-suffering steed waited in a thicket is another matter altogether. But let us not digress.

He glared down at the irritating halfling (actually, he considered all hobbits irritating) with his requisite fan-fictional, elven-flecked eyes and exclaimed in a suitable pseudo-Shakespearean idiom, "Hail and well met, half-witted halfling! Praytell, is it a habit for hobbits to prestidigitate pies? 'Twas quite a feat with thy feet just there, and like a jongleur to land on thy seat whilst tossing tarts in mid-air array. Verily, it doth take crust!"