"They seem to hold similar prejudices toward those with knowledge of the arcane and a gift for magic, it's just like home," Loki was, for better or worse, not as careful with his words as Legolas, he saw no reason to be, not with the air of confidence that seemed to radiate from him, "of course when you revel in bad ale and the smell of wet dog, the who's to judge?"

Did he say that out loud? He must have, because when he glanced out of the corner of his eye there were bottles and bits of furniture being lobbed in their general direction. Bottles and furniture that seemed to glance off of them as if they'd struck an invisible wall. An invisible wall that threw their projectiles right back at them.

"I dare say they are very protective of their love of dog stink, my friend," oddly enough Loki seemed to be enjoying the hostility.