Vevila raised her glass to her closest friends (or, rather, who she thought were her closest friends), and took another swig of ale. "You all, I just want to thank you for the best 17th birthday party a girl could ask for," She took another swig, "and let's not let the fun stop 'ere! Let's drink 'till our feet come out from under us!" Those still safe from passing out cheer and took gulps from their cups. Vevila looked around a bit, content, before spotting one of her best friends, Celta. "Celta!" She staggered toward her friend.
"Spark! Havin' a good time I see?" The little plump hobbit said. Vevila smiled at the familiar nickname. "Oh you always give me the best parties, Celta. And the best ale!" She moved to take a large gulp out of her cup when Celta stopped her. "I think you've 'ad enough, old girl. Why don't we call it a night, then?" Vevila shrugged. "Wha'ever you say, [i]Muther[/i]."
Pretty soon, all of the Shire returned to it's previous tranquility, as hundreds of drunken, happy hobbits dreamed of the night's feast.