The Ancillarion: Of the Silmarkenstone Conspiracy and the Incidental Fellowship

[Morthoron]

Amarthanuin's boredom grew downright fatiguing. Between the tediously covert but clumsily conspicuous shadowmen in the corners, and the jovially sloshed Hobbits (one of whom was singing an off-key rendition of a Shire lullaby -- something about spoons forking dishes over the moon, or some such nonsense), Amarth eventually slumped against his tankard and began fitfully dozing. He was startled awake when one of the drunken hobbits (the one with the horrible tenor and childish lyrics), tripped over Amarth's outstretched boot and was sent sprawling to the floor.

Amarth wearily gazed with glazed eyes down at the prone Hobbit, when *POOF* the hapless Hobbit vanished. Amarth wondered at the alcoholic properties present in Butterbur's obviously potent ale. "Damnation! Th' stuff is better'n I thought," Amarth belched and fell back asleep.