(no subject)
The door opens to a smoky, homely pub full of song and laughter and mugs being pounded on sturdy wooden tables in time to a chorus of somewhat drunken and somewhat melodious voices. It's the Green Dragon on a fine evening, and the local hobbits are making a night of it.
One of those hobbits reels through the doorway, clutching his empty mug as he does so, singing in time with the companions he left behind.
"... Sing Glorious!
Sing Glorious!
Sing one keg of beer for the four of us!
Sing and glory be that there are no more of..."
Merry, having swung his mug and hit nothing but air, realizes he is not where he was before. For one thing... the tables are awfully high.
"Pip?"
One of those hobbits reels through the doorway, clutching his empty mug as he does so, singing in time with the companions he left behind.
"... Sing Glorious!
Sing Glorious!
Sing one keg of beer for the four of us!
Sing and glory be that there are no more of..."
Merry, having swung his mug and hit nothing but air, realizes he is not where he was before. For one thing... the tables are awfully high.
"Pip?"