By Golly I Think He's Drunk!

"Everard," Tim said with an uneasy tone, "I don't know if we should be goin to the tavern."

He turned his head towards Everard as they walked down the dirt path.

Everard smiled and kept walking; nothing could separate him from his ale.

"Everard," Tim spoke louder this time, "are you even listenin to me?"

He shook his head, "not really Tim; I suppose you're tellin me I should go plow the fields right?"

Tim brushed a hand through his strands of blonde hair, "exactly," he said with a sigh.

Everard stole a quick glance at Tim and saw he was a bit too unhappy.

"O' Tim, you don't know how to have any fun," he chuckled, slapping him on the back.

Tim crinkled his nose in frustration.

"Yes I do," he said, "this is just the wrong kind of fun!"

Everard grunted, "than what other fun is there?"

"The kind where you do your chores first and then go get an ale! Speaking of doing chores... lets go do yours right now," said Tim, grabbing Everard's wrist.

Everard tugged violently, making Tim let go.

"Look," he said, turning to face Tim, "if you want to do chores for the rest of your life then go! But I'm not spendin my own doing good for nothing work."

Tim sighed and pressed a thumb to the middle of his forehead.

"It's a wonder how your mother hasn't sent you away to the Second Shire yet," Tim breathed.

But his words were muffled by the merry sound of hobbits drinking and laughing.

Tim's head perked up and he saw the large wooden building upon a small grassy hill. It's sign was neatly hung on a post over the door which spelled out the name 'Old Tavern' in golden letters. A flood of hobbits joyfully walked in and out of the entrance with large grins painted on their faces.

"O' bother," Tim frowned.

He didn't say it but he wanted to be one of those hobbits.

"Come on Tim," Everard urged, "you still have a chance to come along."

Tim stared at Everard for a moment; his face bore the largest smile that could've brightened even the saddest of hobbits and the pair of blue eyes he wore made anything he said hard to resist.

Tim lowered his head to look at the dirt underneath his feet. What was one drink after all?

He sighed, his head raising up to face Everard again.

"What's one drink going to matter anyway? That's what I say."

It wasn't extremely noticeable but Everard's grin got a little larger.

"Ah Tim, you rascal!" He laughed, slinging an arm around him.

"You only live once as I always say," Tim said.

Everard glanced at Tim from the side and gave a sly grin.



"You never say that."

"Well I think it's about time!" Tim insisted.

And together, the two jolly hobbits made their way up to the grassy hill towards the Old Tavern.  

The End

12 comments about this story Feed