[Diamond18]

The rest of the company was hardly aware of Vogonwë's presence this entire time, as he had retreated into a world located in the left side of his brain, if it was to be found in his brain at all.

Once he got his plate of chicken, he sat alone with the plate on one knee, and a piece of paper on his other (Pimpi had been so kind as to fetch a ream for him). He began by transcribing the notes upon his hand and wrist onto the scroll, and then fresh words began to pour from the left side of his mind (if they poured from his mind at all).

In one hand he held a pen, and in the other he gracefully gripped the bottle of Hair Off the Cat that Bit You. Every now and then he would pause from his feverish scribbling to take a sip from the curious little bottle, but he allowed his chicken to become cold. Pimpi came by and tried to engage him in conversation, but he hardly paid any attention to her, save to ask for a few sticky rhymes. So she helped herself to his chicken, and left again without his noticing.

This would be the greatest poem he had ever composed, he thought with heady enthusiasm. He could envision the name already: The Lay of the Entish Bow and The Hunting of the Orcs, Fit the First: The Council/BBQ of Roneld. The motivation and various particulars of the Quest were unimportant to him beyond their potential for epic verse. Even the arrival of the Wizard was of little consequence, except that he was delighted to realize that Pettygast the Green Wizard rhymed nicely with A Repast of Chicken Gizzards.

Vogonwë took yet another sip of the delicious minty hazelnut liquid, and noted for a fleeting moment that though the bottle was small and he had been imbibing generously for two days, it was not yet even half empty. This thought only flitted through his mind for a moment, for he was soon trying to come up with a rhyme for Wylkynsion, and all other matters were forgot.