[Firefoot]

I am a son Aragorn Elessar the morning called by Arathorn and, clay eleven, the heir to the Isildur son Elendils of Gondor. do you help me or to put to me in failure? choose quickly!

Now we know what Elfstones are really made of: eleven pieces of clay each.

He not corner, to leave Phasendrachen of your calculations.

From "It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations."

And then, one that took a long time but proved well worth it: Gimli's song in Moria, except the last part of the last verse because the site stopped working for some reason on my browser before I could get to it.

The world was young, was however not seen
GebirgscGruen of mark on the world that
no word was put on electricity or the stone,
that like Durin only awoke and went.
It called the anonymous hills and those dells
and drank, however untasted wells
which it looked at stooped and in Mirrormere
and a crown of stars saw,
while invaluable stones after a wire
silver plated on the shade of its head to appear.

The world was, the mountains suitably which are high
the oldest days before the case.
Powerful kings of Nargothrond
and Gondolin which exceeded now far from
Sundering beyond the seas.
The world was suitable the day of Durins.

A king it was in circuit of the thrones carven
in much pillared halls of the stone
with the floor of money and roof and runes
gilded energy after the door.
There undimmed sunlight and star and the moon
striking in the brilliant lamps of the crystal
by the cloud or the color of the night
shown for measured there indeed and luminous.

There, the hammer smote on the anvil,
the eyelet of graver, wrote the engraver,
gave him the blade and a border was forged hilt
that those gained delvers, Masons established.
There blade beryl, pearl and Opal and metals
which as the post office of fish, buxler and corslet -,
of the bars of glare and axt-
and blade were étées wrought, put in Hoard.

Of Unwearied were then Durins people;
under the mountains, the music awoke.
Those harpers harped, sang those minstrels,
and by the barriers with schellten Trompeten.

The world is gray, the old mountains; Fire that forging mill is a cold ashen. No toothing-stone becomes, aucuns case of hammer, the stops of blackening in the halls Durins ausgeprgessen. A shadow lays upon his tomb

The best part has got to be the post office of the fish. After all, they have schools, so why not? And I had no idea that there was electricity in Middle-earth...