Appleciderblossom

From Applecider Bolingbroke to Deputy-Shirriff Lancogard North-Took ~ Salutations an’ all me respects to the Honorable Bounders: May a hot toddy be waitin’ at the end of all their Bounds, throughout the whole of winter.

Dear Lance,

From Applecider Bolingbroke to Dep.-Shirriff Lancogard North-Took ~ Salutations an’ all me respects to the Honorable Bounders: May their cheese soufflés always rise perfectly.

Lance: 

I has the Answer. 

Now, I can already see yer quill scrawlin’ over the paper to say did we have a Problem. But let’s be blunt:

Mister Lothrandir an’ meself made the first leg of our journey south to Pynti-peldot under Woolly Oliphant escort.

It slowed the pace, as Nessie en’t bred to keep up with the dogs. But Mister Ofráth were inclined to play it safe with Mister Arvedui King-Ghost an’ Mister Captain Aeril’s relics. 

I am ingenious. 

The world may’s well accept it now an’ ‘ave done with.

Extricatin’ a couple o’ magic spyglass-marbles from an enclosed chamber o’ freezin’ deathwater be an interestin’ puzzler for passing an evening. If’en yeh ever finds yerself in want of one.

Mister Arvedui suggested trawlin’, but that’d have to be done blind. 

A bard be an adaptable creature. 

On the Rove as we often be, we makes our bed any number of odd places. – A place that don’t often spring to mind, I admits, be in the hold of half of a wrecked Elf galleon with six fluffy dogs an’ the ghost of a dead King for bunk-mates.