Momentarily stunned by the sudden movement, and reflexes dulled by the mead, Tristan did barely react until the elf had already dragged him a few steps. This encounter really had taken an unexpected turn. 
"Hey!", he yelled, attempting to pry Ignaescious' fingers from his shirt and digging his heels into the floorboards, "Let me go! It's just confection; nothing to get - ngh! - angry about!"
Tristan had sensed something off about the elf when he'd made the offer to show him the butchers' - you didn't survive long in court if you couldn't detect a false smile, drunk or not - but hadn't at all expected that he'd do something as drastic as public abduction. As they got closer to the door, Tristan's struggles increased, but with the way the room was spinning it didn't do him much good. Damn alcohol and its appealing properties.

"Seriously, Iggy, let go!" He started to reach for the small knife he kept in his belt, but was hesitant to use it. Violence was a last resort, and Tristan didn't want to risk hurting anyone - even slightly deranged elfs - unless strictly necessary, and in his current state he lacked the coordination to be careful.