Once upon a time, Etwas the Elf was running through the forests of green grass, under the canopies of clover and around the stems of tall flowers when she realized it was time for the Association of Modern and Modest Elves' Running The Pickle Soiree. Running The Pickle was a card game popular among the elves of Reykjanesbaer.
She trotted over to the Grand Mushroom and helped herself to one of the lupine-seed chairs at the head table. Now, the Association of Modern and Modest Elves, like most elfin establishments, was generally non-heirarchical. The "Head table" was so named because it was draped with a bit of lettuce leaf. The arse table stood on legs of toxtail weed, the bulb table was surfaced with a slice of garlic and the table clothed in rutabaga skin was called the proboscuary.
The game started amid laughter and cheating and Etwas was just about to ruff a π of clover when a drunken gnome leaned on the door. "Who you doin'?" the gnome asked the mushroom cap in a loud low and unentirely coherent voice.
The elves all turned in their seats to look at the intruder, although some checked their neighbor's hands as they turned.
"Yo," the gnome waved with the hand he'd been using to hold himself upright and slid into the dirt. Some of the elves slid their eyes towards one another, their expressions amused and incredulous.
The gnome picked himself up and dusted himself off. He reached back towards his waste band in the rear and made a puzzled expression. Then he bent backwards and reached deep into the seat of pants and pulled out a dandelion. "I brang you dish." he announced to the room.
"Howdy, Mr. Gnome!" Etwas gave by way of greeting and rose from her chair. "Would you like some coffee?" Etwas proceeded to the buttercup blossom the elves used for an urn.
The gnome turned around, fell down, crawled away out of sight and came back dragging an acorn cap which left a trail of white cream behind it and was picking up soil as the gnome pulled it. "I brang you dish too!" the gnome slurred. "'s'pudding."
Etwas got some leverage under the gnome's knee and helped him raise his waist, although he folded over the helpful elf and his beard and nose were still pressed into the floor.
"I t'ought I'd sing you sumpin'" the gnome, announced to the delight of the dirt into which he bellowed. Then he began in bursts "My gnomette has such pretty haAAAAAir! She's lookin' good, I wonderrrr wheeeEE-Eerre. I t'ink of her wif me own self!!!! Den I caught her wif an ugly, um, trollllllLeoleoeo..."
"Pushy, these gnomes," said Mistress Snaeksmjör to her companion Mrs. Blábaði.
And ever since then, there's a sign on the Grand Mushroom that reads, in Elfin, "Hospitality goes both ways."