Arrows 'nd Bow

[Rimbaud]

For men clad, I rob Rim o'88 Rimmel.
Go find rope to heal here (the man can pause the ph moat).
No aim rang hurt got in awful Spain;
Gong can dine large - can tell Ent story!

I can line a mini-owl -
Our lean, lewd she - bold ear.
Moth lurks on banjo, frees urn.
Herbert, by glib re-malt when I jam talk
Ogle a hot blob, OK.
Oh as elves darn new - hurl Drambui!

(Formendacil, Boromir88, mormegil, Feanor of the Peredhil, The Saucepan Man, the phantom, morai, Gurthang, dancing spawn of ungoliant, Anguirel, estelyn Telcontar, Cailin, Orominuialwen, Lalwende, Shelob, Morsul the Dark, Rune Son of Bjarne, Bethberry, Bergil, Mithalwen, Malkatoj, Hookbill the Goomba, Valesse, Lhunardwen, Rimbaud - all posters on this thread in order of first post).

The epic of the Downs anagrams is a curious one. Starting with the unlikely robbery of vintage designer lipstick from the exquisitely made-up Rimbaud by the burly imposter Boromir88, the poem sweeps to talking about the aloe strands within moisturiser required to heal a face ravaged by an unkind ph climate.

No matter how well applied though, the face cream cannot change the pain gained in Spain by the plain, and the story is broken by the dinner gong, where Esty regales us with her familiar ent story.

Meanwhile, I take up carving, and create a perfectly formed miniature owl, bold and fearless, whilst a large moth, previously supine upon a nearby banjo unfortunately knocks a precious urn over, thus freeing it.

My friend Herbert, whilst applying himself to pouring me another whisky as I delve into ebonics, unfortunately spills hot wax on to his trousers, at which he stares while I drink more; as the elves repair his pantaloons, I unfortunately have a Drambui too many...

[Mithalwen]

It looks as if that was just too hard an act to follow......

Truly astounding.

[Morai]

Morsul the Dark: is of course smoker hut lard, meaning of course that he smokes his meat in a hut made out of animal fat. Ew....

Our beloved Maeg would describe herself as a "game."

[Valesse]

I feel all selfconcious posting after Rimbaud and all, but he inspired me to move on to bigger and better... ANAGRAMS!

Was the One Ring trying to tell us something?:

One Ring to rule them all, one ring to find them...
One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.

Mr. Tolkien might be a ranger in Tol-in-Gaurhoth if he told Dr. N. G. Landen nonsense:
"Hi! I old timber tentmen."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Three Rings for Elven Kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf Lords in their halls of stone.
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

becomes

THE SEERDOM DID MAKE WEAK THE MAN THAT HAD NO SLYNESS, FOR SOON HE REVEAL'D THE UNKNOWN AND DIED. TOLKIEN WROTE OF THIS DISORDER OF LIFE... HE FORGOTTEN HOLDS THE ROLE OF EVIL, FOR NO GOOD SEEN IN HIS HLNNRRRRRRRRS*.

*Hlnnrrrrrrrrs is an archaic term for "Wolf"

Take from this revelation what you will.

[the guy who be short]

To be a little self-loving to start off with:

the guy who be short = how be the hors gut?

Better ones to follow, hopefully.

[The Saucepan Man]

When entertaining, Fordim Hedgethistle dished the Fig Merlot.

Encaitare favours a Rice n’ Tea mixture.

The guy who be short has a taste for the “Hot Huey” Ghost Brew.

Whereas The Barrow-Wight prefers the Wraith Goth-Brew.

Mister Underhill's tipple is Rilled Entish Rum.

Sleepy Ranger tends to drink Pyrene Lagers.

While Rune Son of Bjarne satisfies himself with a Jar of Nunson Beer.

Dancing spawn of ungoliant takes a slug of Napwan Gin and Tonic.

And Meneltarmacil spoils himself with a Mint Caramelle cocktail.

Having simple tastes, Tuor of Gondolin is content with London Fruit Goo.

[Mithalwen]

Originally Posted by Feanor of the Peredhil

Three Rings for Elven Kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf Lords in their halls of stone.
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

becomes

THE SEERDOM DID MAKE WEAK THE MAN THAT HAD NO SLYNESS, FOR SOON HE REVEAL'D THE UNKNOWN AND DIED. TOLKIEN WROTE OF THIS DISORDER OF LIFE... HE FORGOTTEN HOLDS THE ROLE OF EVIL, FOR NO GOOD HIM SEES IN HLNNNRRRRRRRR*.

*Hlnnnrrrrrrrr is an archaic term for "Wolf"

Take from this revelation what you will.

Surley this message was dictated and Hlnnnrrrrrrrr was the amanuensis' best attempt at rendering the author's speech as he was slain by a wolf...

[Rimbaud]

Saucepan the drinks are great, I can't rep now but much kudos. I'm stuck with Drambui for ever...