[ What is this? Sam's startled in that instant that suddenly, though he was minding his own business, there's something being thrust into his hand. A quip sits on his tongue about how he's a hobbit on a mission and he doesn't have time for being festive when he's been up and kidnapped like this, but it drops off at the sight of, well, wow, an elf. He feels like he's seen so very many elves now in the last short but infinitely long stretch of his life and yet he's always in awe of them, always stunned.
Well okay perhaps he can be a bit more polite about it all. ]
Begging your pardon, Master Elf, but I've not got the time for drinking, for all I'd like to.
no subject
Well okay perhaps he can be a bit more polite about it all. ]
Begging your pardon, Master Elf, but I've not got the time for drinking, for all I'd like to.
[ And so he thrusts the glass right back. ]