"Should we pelt them with some rocks?
Should we shove them in a box?
Should we eat them with bagels and lox?...
Oh, never mind all that!" screamed the fox. "Honestly, I don't know how the ancient Bards of Numenor managed to speak like that all the time. And that fourth stanza really didn't scan well."
At that moment the fox noticed that the Wargs had polished off the last of the skwerl meat, and were snuffling around looking for any last scraps. One curious fell beast stuck his nose in the frying pan of ham and eggs, (both green, since Orcs seldom worried about salmonella). But Kerplunkt batted his nose with a spatula, growling "No begging! You can lick the plate when I'm done."
But most of the Wargs had turned their hungry eyes on the fox, who was looking more and more like a red dead skwerl on the hoof. Wargs are not very bright, nor are they picky eaters.
Fox knew that his window for negotiation was closing fast, so he sidled up to Gravlox's wooden leg - controlling a nervous impulse to raise his own leg - and whispered:
"Listen. Can we talk?"
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