Dwarves And Their Ale

"What do you mean, there's no beer?"

"Like I said, Mr Strider!  This company of dwarves come up the Greenway, the night afore last.  Well, you know dwarves and their ale!  Near drank me dry, they did.  And then last night if you'll believe it,  another group turns up - and before I know it, they're having a drinking contest, and they've drunk the barrels dry, and my spare barrels too; and I'm right sorry, Mr Strider, but there's no beer left!"

Barliman paused to draw breath.  "I never thought I'd live to see the day. A drought!  At the Pony!"

(Written for a 'Drought' challenge at Tolkien Weekly)

Meeting In Bree

It was a rainy day in March when Aragorn met with his brothers at the Pony. He shook himself in a shower of raindrops, hanging his cloak over a chair to dry. “Well, I’m back.”

Elladan sniffed and grimaced. “So I see. What is that foul smell, littlest brother? It is like …” he sniffed again. “Damp dog.”

“A wet warg,” Elrohir added distastefully.

“It is my wolfskin cloak!” Aragorn protested. “I know it smells a little in damp weather, but it is warm, and keeps the rain out!”

He sighed. His brothers could be so very Elven at times.

(Author Notes:  Written for a combination of prompts for 'Smell' and 'Like a Wet Warg')