"Oh yeah, that reminds me..." Nimrod mumbles, appearing seemingly out of no where.
He holds up a small card on which letters of fire have been written in some ancient script. Despite the heat, though, the card does not burn.
"I got the invitation yesterday. Thanks bunches, but I've got a little, er, gathering I need to take care of."
Then he grimaces and pulls out a burlap sack. It is moving, as if the contents are alive.
"And next time Queen Tatiana sends out messengers, please ask her to refrain from sending Hobbits. I still can't find my bloody mouse!"
Nimrod drops the struggling bundle to the floor and walks out mumbling about cleptomania and mythology.