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Hearpwine sought the Common Room and the comfort of a large tankard of ale to recover from his first experience of teaching. He had never thought of how exhausting it would be. Somehow, he had imagined that it would be so much easier to be the master than the student, but he was beginning to realise that the reverse was the truth. The constant questions and points being raised, the need to maintain some semblance of order, and – most of all – the youthful energy of his charges had drained him mightily. To restore himself he quickly downed the ale, and then bid the barmaid bring him another. He cast his eye about wonderingly for the pretty Innkeeper, for he had always been attracted to lovely maidens, but she was nowhere in sight. He longed to speak with her of home.
To pass the time he pulled forth his harp and played the melody upon it that went with the song the children had prepared. This quickly refreshed his spirit and before he even made the conscious decision to do so, he was singing the words they had composed:
Ruffian, spare our Party Tree!
Touch not a single bough!
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
'Twas Samwise Gamgee’s able hand
That placed it near his cot:
There, ruffian, let it stand,
Thy axe shall harm it not!
That graceful mallorn tree
Whose glory and renown
Are spread o’er land and sea,
And wouldst thou hew it down?
Ruffian, forbear thy stroke!
Cut not its earth-bound ties;
Oh spare it for us Hobbit folk
Heed our warning cries!
Join me then dear friend,
Underneath its silvery bark.
Golden hours we shall spend
Till morn gives way to dark,
Sampling platters sure to delight
The hungriest in the Shire.
As hobbits marvel at the sight
Of a fat pig o'er an open fire.
And when we’ve said good-bye
And when the party’s done
Then to our little beds we’ll go
To dream of all the fun
The friends we saw, the games we played
The food and dance and song
Oh, Party Tree, we love you so,
We’ll see you soon ‘for long!
It was a good song, if a bit uneven in style. And there was the matter of the sudden break in the middle as the song shifted from cries against the ruffians to a party. Perhaps he could compose a new stanza commemorating the defeat of the ruffians and the beginning of the Shire’s renewal…?
He took another pull at his ale and thought about it.
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