[Kransha]

“Umm…You’ll both have to forgive me, but I really don’t understand. All this about Ar-Phorzora or Phizaru or whatever you called him escapes me. The ways of the Shire are known to me, but this knowledge is not one of the many things I’ve learned. I caught something about Forgotten Caves, a Golden King, and something about a lapdog, but I think the rest of this is completely beyond me. Here now, let me understand. Snaveling: You are seventy-eight years old, yes?”

“Yes, seventy-eight.” responded the man of the south, looking dejected in the face of Roa, who seemed to have taken back her outburst. Toby only wished to understand what was going on. This whole thing had flown by with an incredible speed rearing it and the whole, heated discourse between Roa and Snaveling had been lost on him. He was trying now to regain what composure he had left.

“And the amulet mentioned prior is made of?”

“Mithril.” The single word of response was more than enough. Though he wasn’t wise of such things, Tobias Hornblower still had a good idea of what mithril was. Some material mined by dwarves…or was it elves? Well, it didn’t matter. The point was, it was either valuable, magical, or just very shiny.

“Ah yes, I do believe I caught that part. And Ar-Pharzaro is?”

“Not important.” Snaveling, probably impatient with the hobbit’s curiosity, nearly snapped back.

Toby felt that it probably was important, but didn’t seek the question any further. He understood mostly what had happened, though he didn’t know the details. Even though the fiery conversation was over, both Roa and Snaveling looked subdued. Toby, grumbling to himself as an odd silence tried to descend on the trio, spoke up with as jovial and jocund air as he had ever mustered. What came out sounded more like a oratory proclamation than a heartfelt request.

“Though it seems a little late to salvage the situation, I believe we should all remember that this is a party. Perhaps we should be ‘partying’ instead of sitting here and talking about such things. There is singing to be sung, tales to be told, dancing to be done, drink to be drunk, and all manner of things that could distract us from any sadness or anger within us. This is the Green Dragon Inn and celebration is afoot. For once, if you can, be merry, my friends. In the Shire, you can leave these troubles behind and join the festivities…If it’s the one favor you ever do me.” Toby chortled, even though he was deadly serious now. He was going to make sure that everything worked out this night. He hadn’t been charitable for nothing.