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It was already Tuesday, and Aragorn's artificial limb could not be found. So, to keep the matter underwraps, he was forced to substitute the mangled stump with that of a severed rider's arm he picked up somewhere outside a pub.
Rider Greud: Hey Fred, is that your arm?
Rider Fred: Nah, it was sliced off into the keg after that heated philosophical debate on Balrogs, remember?
~ Aesthete
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Vinur, vinur skilur tú meg? Veitst tú ongan loyniveg?
Hevur tú reikađ líka sum eg,
í endaleysu tokuni?
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