I found this scribbled on the men's room wall in Thranduil's
Stronghold.  It is a place of rudisms but some are better than
others.  Samovari was adroit with words.
                                                             --Prather

 

Scouting in the far corners of Middle-Earth, I came across
an old manuscript, filled with strange and faded runes.
Unable to decipher them, I decided to show the scroll to
the eldest of my race, lord Elrond. After long and hard
miles and dozens of inns I finally reached Imladris and
found the son of Earendil keeping an eye on his daughter
as usual. He took the scroll and straightaway announced
it to be at least ten centuries old.

"Which runes are those, o Master? I cannot read them", I
exclaimed. Elrond thought for a while. Then he said:
"The usual Angerthas. But the scroll is upside down."

While I blushed and hiccuped he read the text. "It is a
riddle and goes like this:

   Swings by his thigh a thing most magical!
   Below the belt, beneath the folds
   of his clothes it hangs, a hole in its front end,
   stiff-set and stout, but swivels about.

   Levelling the head of this hanging instrument,
   its wielder hoists his hem above the knee:
   it is his will to fill a well-known hole
   that it fits fully when at full length.

   He has often filled it before. Now he fills it again.


Elrond sat in deep thought for a long time. Finally he sighed
and said: "I cannot guess at the solution, yet somehow~
this brings to mind my daughter..." I left him there
and promised not to return before I had found the answer.

The problem is, I'm running out of gold and ale, yet
dare not go back unless I have the answer. Can anyone
help me?

     Samovaari the Singing Ranger may be wandering yet,
     getting knowing looks but no help at all.

                             --Prather chuckles softly.

I ran across Mithgil in Bree. He was drunk as a skunk
and sitting in a big wooden tub full of hot water, singing
his fool head off!  This is his song:    
 
   
     Sing hey! for the bath at close of day
     That washes the weary mud away!
     A loon is he that will not sing
     O! Water Hot is a noble thing!    

     
     O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
     and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
     but better than rain or rippling streams
     is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

       
     O! Water cold we may pour at need
     down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;
     but better is Beer, if drink we lack,
     and Water Hot poured down the back.
   
     O! Water is fair that leaps on high
     in a fountain white beneath the sky;
     but never did fountain sound so sweet
     as splashing Hot Water with my feet!
     
I left him there... and I have seen him
several times since so I suspect he didn't drown.
My thanks to him for sharing his song.

          --Prather



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tevildo      (Thu Feb  7,  2002)


All this talk of big spiders reminds of a poem I posted a while back,
about them crazy, man-eating spiders that keep trying to eat me in
Mirkwood, --Silly creatures...
 
"Big as a horse,
 Black as divorce,
 Legs like a cricket,
 I hide in the thicket,
 Auto-attack as you pass
 Start kicking your ass.
 With silk in my rump,
 I perch on a stump,
 Weaving my screens
 In woods and ravines
 To capture my food
 With the string I exude,
 You're snared like a fly.
 Spider am I,
 Big fat old bug
 Huge, foul, and smug.
 If I ever meet you,
 I'll happily eat you.
 If I never do,
 You won't have a clue
 But old Spider am I,
 And I terrify."
                                        --Tevildo