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Falco Headstrong had been listening to the music. At first he tried to pretend it did not interest him, but slowly his feet drew closer and closer, and it was not long before he was tapping his foot and smiling, nodding in appreciation. He had heard the Sailor's Hornpipe, and recalled the days as a young lad when he had danced to that tune. He had danced to many a tune that day, but he had one favourite. Perhaps he could get the musicians to play it.
And that monkey! Tsk, tsk! How absurd, to think a monkey could dance well!
An idea sprang into Falco's mind, and for a moment he forgot he was a dignified and well-to-do old hobbit man. No, no, he didn't forget! But he remembered that just because he had been out in the rain the night before didn't mean he had to retain his sour mood. He remembered the last hand-fasting he had gone to. He'd hadn't considered it beneath his dignity then.
"Here now, boys... and, er, girls," he said to the musicians, stepping to them with a twinkle in his eye. "Your monkey knows how to stamp his feet, but why don't you watch a real hobbit dancing? Do you know The Maid Behind the Bar? If so, strike it up, and I'll dance for you better than any hobbit in the Shire can."
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