“Olive?” asked Bilbo, holding out the crock he’d just opened to Frodo. “Nori sent these from Laketown.”
Curious, Frodo accepted one of the strange little fruits and took a bite. With a grimace, he spat it out. “It’s terribly sour,” he said. “How can you eat them?”
Bilbo took a second one. “It’s an acquired taste, I admit. Rather like pickled onions, and you love those. That green crock over there is full of pickled onions I’ll set out with these for the feast. Not everything served should be sweet, after all.”
Frodo smiled wryly and fetched the green crock.