[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

'Thanks, old boy,' drawled Squatter. 'Nothing to it really: fence-climbing's all in the wrists, you see. Now to settle this debt of honour: after you.'

Selecting the proffered crusty blade, he placed it under his arm like a swagger-stick and accompanied Heren to a quiet spot where they could test their mettle with these paragons of the baker's art. With mock gravity the duellists saluted one another and then with cries of 'Have at you', they leaped to the fray. Soon the air was filled with crumbs and fragments of crust; a possibly fitting tribute to the fair traveller in the wilds of Europe who had prompted the contest.

[ May 10, 2003: Message edited by: The Squatter of Amon Rûdh ]