He knew little to nothing of swords or bows when he first arrived at Caer Glaem, I remember those days fondly. [ Baby!John has grown up, ahw. ] For each time you manage to take his feet out from under him, I will owe you a glass of the fine Dorwinion wine I keep in the cellars of the castle. Shall we call ten falls equal to a half-barrel for you to help yourself to at your leisure, rounding the amount up to something worth your while?

[ The more John is forced to compensate for losing, the stronger he will become. Besides, Lancelot seems a goodly sort of Man, and Thranduil is not ungenerous when it counts. Not that he mentions the strength of the Dorwinion is such that only he and Legolas have been able to drink more than three cups in succession before and not pass out; a mortal constitution would likely require far less of the only wine served at the king's table in Mirkwood, especially when it remains strong enough for most normal Elves. ]