“I think you’ve had enough.”
Merry put down the bottle and lifted the glass he’d just filled. “I’m fine.” He tossed back the whiskey.
Éowyn sat next to him. “Want to talk about it?”
Merry sighed and looked around. The party was dying down and most of the guests had stumbled off to bed. The bride and groom... well, he didn’t want to think about what they were up to, up at Crickhollow.
“My little girl grew up,” he whimpered.
Éowyn grinned. He frowned at her. She patted his arm. “You won’t mind so much when the first grandchild arrives.”