"Mum," Everard explained, "we were only havin a bit of fun!"
Matilda paced around her hobbit hole, frustration covering the kindness she once possessed.
"Why didn't you tell me Everard?" She asked, turning toward the nearly sober hobbit.
Everard shook his head and looked down at the floor, "I don't know mum," was all he had to say.
Matilda brought a tired hand to her face and rubbed her eyes.
"Everard, go to your room," she ordered, too angered to look at him.
Everard slowly slumped down the hall, knowing that what he had done was foolish.
"Tim was right," he sighed, sitting up on his bed, "I shouldn't have gone to the tavern."
Everard rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes; his head hurt. Was it because of the ale or the fact that he had disobeyed his mum for the eleventy-hundreth time?
"Oh blast it all," Everard choked.
He turned his head towards his window and looked outside. It was a beautiful day and he had to spend it in his room because of his mistake. Everard breathed and put his hand to the warm glass.
"Is this my life? Getting into trouble all the time? Messing everything up?" He asked himself.
Everard looked even harder out his window now, squinting to see the distant mountains far off from Burkland.
"Well maybe it's not my future; maybe I'm meant for something greater than this!"
Everard paused, silence breaking his flow of thought.
"or less than this," he mumbled, swinging his head away from the window.
Everard spent a long time thinking after that.