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Old 05-06-2020, 08:35 AM   #84
Estelyn Telcontar
Princess of Skwerlz
 
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Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: where the Sea is eastwards (WtR: 6060 miles)
Posts: 7,620
Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!
With the innate modesty only a truly Elven shieldmaiden possesses, a stunningly beautiful female entered the ballroom. The star-gem-studded deep blue gown she wore vied with her smile for brilliance, her golden hair rippled down beyond her trim waistline, and her violet eyes were obviously searching for someone. Yet her sensitive nature alerted her to the fact that a festivity was in progress, and she listened to others declaim their poetry with true interest. Here indeed were works worthy of performance, written by great poets who eclipsed the one she remembered from the Quest of the Entish Bow, Vogonwë, as the Sun eclipses all other heavenly bodies during the daytime.

She searched her long and perfect memory for something she could contribute, a work that would both honour the Great Maker of Middle-earth himself as well as the world in which she had spent many ages, Muddled-Mirth. And so when there was a lull in the conversations, she stepped into the spotlight and recited:

We RPG and libel it just so,
(for parody it is, the Entish Bow);
we write a post and read with smiling face
one of the many major wastes of space:
a sword’s a sword, some metal in a sheath
compelled to speak or to condemn to death.
Amid the serious, canon, lofty tales,
here, influence of moderators pales.

At bidding of a Plot, which we do bend
(and must), we only dimly apprehend;
the Itship marches on, as Game unrolls
from dark beginnings to uncertain goals;
and as on screen ‘tis written without clue,
with letters green on background black in hue,
an endless multitude of posts appear,
some grim, some frail, some wonderful, some queer.

The REB is not compound of lies,
but draws some humour from the only Wise,
and still recalls him. Though now long enstranged,
he turneth in his grave, and every change
the faithful Travestometer doth see;
we hold in honour creativity
and splinter from the true LotR
our many hues with no intent to mar
the memory of him who’s now decayed.
We write still by the model which he made.


Then Merisuwyniel stepped back and her eyes found the one on whom all her thoughts rested...
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'Mercy!' cried Gandalf. 'If the giving of information is to be the cure of your inquisitiveness, I shall spend all the rest of my days in answering you. What more do you want to know?' 'The whole history of Middle-earth...'

Last edited by Estelyn Telcontar; 05-10-2020 at 03:17 AM.
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