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Old 05-12-2020, 06:16 PM   #91
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
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Join Date: Jan 2004
Posts: 704
Arry has just left Hobbiton.
Arry watched as Envinyatar crossed the room and slipped out the door. “I sure hope our paths cross again,” he murmured to himself. Seems like an interesting man – lot deeper than he lets on.

Glancing around the room he noted that the demolition of a section of wall by the two dragons had not seemed to perturb most of the party-goers. He had not been to a previous party and wondered what outrageous incidents might have occurred that the partiers were immune to such events.

Pio, he saw, was still in conversation with a very beautiful lady. Serious conversation, it appeared. Arry rubbed his chin thoughtfully, wondering what that was all about. Was the woman planning on hiring Miz Pio? Behind them, still looking a bit bedraggled, was Angara and another woman. He narrowed his eyes trying to picture her more closely. “I wonder if that’s the Elf’s old friend she talks about so fondly.” His brow furrowed as he dug deep for a name. “Bird”, he said aloud, nodding his head in confirmation. “That must be her! Looks just like the way Miz Pio described her.”

Remembering the strange device Enivinyatar had given him, Arry reached into his vest pocket where he’d placed it. “I wonder what this does?” He sat down at the table and placed the slender box-like object on the table’s top, turning it around slowly to see all sides. His eyes were drawn toward bright crystal jewel in the top of the box. “Vin said he’d found it in a cave by the western sea. And it’s from the Old Fellow’s time.” Arry picked it up for a closer look. “How cool is all that!!!”

He put it down once again in front of him. Trusting nothing too outrageous would happen if he gave it a try, Arry pushed the crystal button as Envinyatar had instructed. There was a quiet click followed by a soft hum. Then a rich voice sang out as if the singer were right here next to him.

“It really is him, the Old Fellow, Mister Tolkien, himself!!!”

Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by.
Done by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.

Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: ‘Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o’ my nuncle Tim,
As should be a-lyin’ in graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin’ in graveyard.’

‘My lad,’ said Troll, ‘this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o’lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Thinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
For he don’t need his shinbone.’

Said Tom: ‘I don’t see why the likes o’ thee
Without axin’ leave should go makin’ free
With the shank or the shin o’ my father’s kin;
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!’

‘For a couple o’ pins,’ says Troll, and grins,
‘I’ll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o’ fresh meat will go down sweet!
I’ll try my teeth on thee now.
Hee now! See now!
I’m tired o’ gnawing old bones and skins;
I’ve a mind to dine on thee now.’

But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of naught.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o’ the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.

But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountain’s root,
For the seat of a troll don’t feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan.
And he knew his toes could feel it.

Tom’s leg is game, since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don’t care, and he’s still there
With the bone he boned from its owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll’s old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from its owner!

Sam’s Rhyme of the Troll
--- J. R. R. Tolkien
If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world – J.R.R. Tolkien
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