Chapter 5
Bruce N. Hietbrink
Bruce Hietbrink
Chapter 5 A Conspiracy Undressed
"Well," said Mobster, as the laughter subsided, "we'd
best be going ourselves. I'm looking forward to a meal
and a pint of ale." Across the river the hobbits could
see the cheerful glow of neon lights blinking in the
windows of Brandy Hall.
Long ago, Gorhendad Oldbuck (Mobster's great-great-great-
grandfather, his great-great-uncle, or his third cousin once
removed, depending on which branch of the family tree you
trace) was the town drunk of Bywater. People called him all
kinds of names--Drunkenbuck, Alebuck, and the like--but the
name that stuck was Brandybuck. Unfortunately for him, he
lived at the time of the Shire's great experiment with
prohibition. Unhappy with the dry state of affairs, he moved
across the Brandywine River and set up his own little country,
where the alcohol flowed freely. Pretty soon, the greater
portion of the Shire's population was packed into a small strip
of land between the River and the Forest. The mayor of Michel
Delving finally admitted defeat and repealed prohibition. Most
hobbit folk returned to the four farthings, but Brandybuck and
his family had set up a nice home in Bucklebeltland, so they
stayed behind. To this day, Bucklebeltland is still known for
it's cavalier attitude towards the Shire's laws (making it the
perfect place for Frodo to hide out from tax laws and bill
collectors), and also for the fine quality of its many pubs.
As the ferry-boat moved away from the shore, Sam peered
uneasily at the darkly swirling water, convinced that an armed
elf-princess would jump up and bonk him on the nose. Knowing
the Bucklebeltlanders' reputation, he wasn't sure that he liked
the idea of taking a boat piloted by Mobster (after all, Frodo's
parents Gordo and Primadonna had died in an accident involving
drinking and boating). "Um, about that bridge," he offered,
"couldn't that Black Rider fellow just ride across and attack
us on the other side?"
"Samwise, my butt," grumbled Mobster to himself, "Samfool
is more like it." Aloud he answered, "It's clearly posted that
you have to take boats eastbound, and since this is the last boat,
we'll be safe."
Peering into the murk, Sam could just make out a dark figure
walking around on the west bank. The figure moved towards the
bridge, but noticing a sign it turned dejectedly and disappeared
into the night.
"Here we are," declared Mobster as the ferry pulled into its
slip. "Coming, Sam?" Looking around, Sam realized that Pipsqueak
and Frodo had already scrambled ashore. "C'mon, Sam, Crickhollow
is just around the corner and Fatty's getting dinner on."
Entering Crickhollow, Frodo could tell that his friends had taken
great pains to set it up just like his old home at Bag End. All of
his posters were already up on the walls, his fish were swimming happily
in an aquarium set up in the corner, and they had even left a pile of
his dirty laundry beside the T.V. He felt ashamed that they'd gone to
all of this work and he was going to have to leave them.
"Dinner smells great," said Pipsqueak to Fatty, who was just coming
out of the kitchen, "but after sleeping under a tree last night I need
to wash up first. It's bath time."
"Which order shall we go in," said Frodo. "Smartest first, or cutest
first? You'll be last either way, Master Pipsqueak."
"No fear!" said Merry, "There are two tubs back there. You're left
with the shower, though, Sam. In a class-based society such as this you
really can't expect a servant-boy like you to enjoy the same luxuries as
your betters."
As the three travelers filed back to the washroom, Sam was muttering
something about ". . . first one up against the wall when the revolution
comes." Soon, though, the sound of splashing and wallowing was mixed
with the sound of Pipsqueak's favorite bathing song.
Rubber Ducky, you're the one,
You make bathtime lots of fun,
Rubber Ducky, I'm awfully fond of you;
(woh woh, bee doh!)
Rubber Ducky, joy of joys,
When I squeeze you, you make noise!
Rubber Ducky, you're my very best friend, it's true!
(doo doo doo doooo, doo doo)
Rubber Ducky, you're so fine
And I'm lucky that you're mine
Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of -
Rubber ducky, I'd like a whole pond of -
Rubber ducky I'm awfully fond of you!
There was a terrific flush, and a shout of "Whoa!" from Sam as he was scalded
in the shower. It wasn't long before all three were drawn back to the dining
room by the smell of Fatty's roasted mushrooms.
Now, if you've ever met a hobbit, you know that they love to eat. For such
little guys, they can pack away a lot of food, which is why you'd better
be sure
you've a well-stocked larder before inviting a hobbit home for the weekend.
Above all, though, hobbits loved mushrooms. Hobbit gourmands had identified
seven hundred and thirty eight varieties of edible mushrooms, and from the
look of his waistline, you could tell that Fatty was familiar with them all.
He'd prepared a sumptuous six course feast based completely around fungus.
He started with a nice little appetizer of mushrooms stuffed with cheese,
followed by a salad of morels, stir fried shitakes, grilled portabellos, and
roasted truffles. He ended it all with mushroom ice cream, but curiously
everyone decided they were full at that point, and pulled their chairs around
the fireplace to talk.
"Well, I'm not sure exactly how to say this . . ." started Frodo when
Pipsqueak interrupted.
"Years from now," he began, "when someone writes the story of our
adventures,
no one is going to want to dwell on this scene. They'll want to move
ahead into
the action, so let's not draw this out. Let's just pretend that you
already know
that we know all about the Ring . . . "
"But how?" protested Frodo.
"Do you think we're idiots?" Mobster piped in. "You'd never have a chance
with Pipsqueak's cousin Cassiopiea without magical help. You're my
friend, man,
but I've got to say that you've got a face only a mother could love. A
blind mother."
"Anyway," continued Pipsqueak, "let's just pretend that we've already
told you
we're going with you, you've protested, and we've insisted. Sam's nice
and all,
but let's face it, he's a bit of a stick in the mud. Adventures will be a
lot more
fun with Mobster and I along."
"You are a set of scoundrels!~ cried Frodo. "Bless you one and all."
They all
danced around Frodo (not that there's anything wrong with that) and Mobster and
Pipsqueak started a song they'd apparently composed for the occasion.
Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
To hobbit lasses one and all.
To Cassiopiea, Mary Jane,
To Beth, and Ruth, and sweet Lorraine.
To the wafflefoot twins with kisses sweet,
To all the gals with those sexy bare furry feet.
Someday we'll return to this corner of the world,
And maybe even Sam will meet a nice hobbit girl.
For now we're off on a quest of sorts,
To meet the women found in exotic ports.
We might find elf-maids with pointy ears,
Or even kiss dwarf girls (after eight or nine beers).
We must be gone, we must be gone.
We leave before the crack of dawn!
"Actually, guys, if it's okay with you, could we wait until about nine
or so?" asked Frodo. "I'm exhausted."
"Well, of course we'll sleep in. 'Nine' just doesn't rhyme. 'We must
be gone, we must be gone, we leave before the crack of nine'? Old Bilbo
would have never let me get by with a song like that," said Mobster. "I've
got it all set up. We'll wake up at nine, Fatty will make up a nice breakfast
of mushroom omelets, Sam will pack all of our bags while we have a nice
leisurely smoke, and we'll be gone by noon. Our route takes us hiking through
the Old Forest."
Fatty suddenly went pale. "Wait a minute! No one told me anything about
the Forest! I can't go in there, I'm afraid of trees!"
"You're afraid of trees? What kind of pansy are you?" demanded Frodo.
"If you can't handle a few trees, you're not going to do us much good on
the road. Maybe you should stay behind and tell Gandalf where to find us."
Fatty seemed relieved that everyone agreed to this plan. After some
final preparations, they all settled down to bed.
After tossing and turning for some time, Frodo finally settled down
into an uneasy sleep. Eventually he fell into a vague dream in which he
seemed to be looking out of a high window over a dark sea of tangled trees.
When he turned away from the window to face the classroom, he noticed he
wasn't wearing any clothes. Just then, the teacher started to pass out
an exam that he hadn't studied for. In a panic, he woke up.
Öjevind Lång
>Here is my submission. Be gentle.
>
>Bruce Hietbrink
>
>
>
>Chapter 5 A Conspiracy Undressed
LOLOL
I especially liked the tale of the alcoholized Brandbybuck family and
Pipsqueak's rubber duck song. (Just reading about the mushroom meal almost
made me ill. ;-)) I also found myself making mental notes, since I am going
to make further contributions to the e-text. Frodo swigs Westfarthing
Chinook by the bottle...He will also have to account for himself one day to
Pipsqueak Took's cousin Cassiopeia (or to Cassiopeia's dad)...Fatty is
Pipsqueak's annoying younger brother...that fox in the woods, being fluent
in Westron, has notified Gandalf, Elrond and Eru knows who else about
Frodo's departure...the hangout of the Brandybucks is called
Beltbuckleland...at least one of the Black Riders is truly Black, and has a
real sense of rhythm too -. which may become his undoing! Yes, this looks
very promising...
Öjevind
Douglas Henderson
>
> Bruce N. Hietbrink hath written:
>
> >
> >Bruce Hietbrink
> >
> >
> >
> >Chapter 5 A Conspiracy Undressed
>
>
> I especially liked the tale of the alcoholized Brandbybuck family and
> Pipsqueak's rubber duck song. (Just reading about the mushroom meal almost
> made me ill. ;-)) I also found myself making mental notes, since I am going
> to make further contributions to the e-text. Frodo swigs Westfarthing
> Chinook by the bottle...He will also have to account for himself one day to
> Pipsqueak Took's cousin Cassiopeia (or to Cassiopeia's dad)...Fatty is
> Pipsqueak's annoying younger brother...that fox in the woods, being fluent
> in Westron, has notified Gandalf, Elrond and Eru knows who else about
> Frodo's departure
remember what the elves were eating, barbecued fox!
This is actually scary, does this mean we will someday be doing exegesis
on the e-text?
Öjevind Lång
>"Öjevind Lång" wrote:
>>
>> Bruce N. Hietbrink hath written:
>>
>> >
>> >Bruce Hietbrink
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >Chapter 5 A Conspiracy Undressed
>>
>>
>> I especially liked the tale of the alcoholized Brandbybuck family and
>> Pipsqueak's rubber duck song. (Just reading about the mushroom meal
almost
>> made me ill. ;-)) I also found myself making mental notes, since I am
going
>> to make further contributions to the e-text. Frodo swigs Westfarthing
>> Chinook by the bottle...He will also have to account for himself one day
to
>> Pipsqueak Took's cousin Cassiopeia (or to Cassiopeia's dad)...Fatty is
>> Pipsqueak's annoying younger brother...that fox in the woods, being
fluent
>> in Westron, has notified Gandalf, Elrond and Eru knows who else about
>> Frodo's departure
>Not so!
>
>remember what the elves were eating, barbecued fox!
Oh, dear. Poor, well-intentioned fox! I also notice that I made a mistake in
my list of things to remember above - the bibulous homeland of the
Brandybucks is called Bucklebeltland and nothing else.
>This is actually scary, does this mean we will someday be doing exegesis
>on the e-text?
Oh, yes - and flaming each other like mad over it. For example, I see that
you assume that the fox the Elves roast over the fire is the same thinking
and talking fox mentioned earlier on in the chapter. But that is just your
unjustified, moronic ASSUMPTION. Stop spreading your lies and flames around
this newsgroup, you TROLL!
Öjevind
Douglas Henderson
>
> Douglas Henderson hath written:
> >"Öjevind Lång" wrote:
> >>
> >> Bruce N. Hietbrink hath written:
> >>
> >> >
> >> >Bruce Hietbrink
> >> >
> >> >
> >> >
> >> >Chapter 5 A Conspiracy Undressed
> >>
Aha!
No wonder the Norweigans were so glad to get away from you guys, you
scandanavian spewer of Eddic drivel.
If you knew your e-text history as well as you think you do you would
know that the author refers only twice to foxes in the entire work. I
have looked over the rest of the work, which is nonexistant, AND I CAN
FIND NO OTHER REFERENCE TO FOXES (except for a rather risque comment Sam
makes to Rosie)
I think what is bothering you is that the author is using a copulative
verb and we all know how poor Swedes are at copulation.
Netlice like you make me sick.
I have reported you to your ISP
I have subscribed you to a number of mailing lists.
Remember when your doorbell rang last night and when you came out (nice
pink fluffy bedroom slippers, by the way) there was no one there? That
was me
Ojevinde Long
David Sulger
>>remember what the elves were eating,
>>barbecued fox!
>Oh, dear. Poor, well-intentioned fox!
I was thinking along the same lines myself. If Gildor ate the fox
before it could warn Gandalf, Elrond and Bombadil, that could lead to
some of the plot complications later on.
--Dave
Steuard Jensen
> >>remember what the elves were eating, barbecued fox!
Ojevind Lang wrote:
> >Oh, dear. Poor, well-intentioned fox!
Quoth or...@webtv.net (David Sulger):
> I was thinking along the same lines myself. If Gildor ate the fox
> before it could warn Gandalf, Elrond and Bombadil, that could lead
> to some of the plot complications later on.
Excellent. One advantage of _this_ text is that the authors are still
living, and can be asked questions. I did place the fox reference in
the barbecue scene in order to suggest that the fox was, in fact,
eaten. However, I figured it was best to leave the reference pretty
subtle. I suppose, of course, that if someone really wanted to assume
they were eating a different fox, they could bring my original back,
but I think that would unfortunately make the earlier scene less
funny. :) Glad to see that some people are catching the connection,
anyway. :)
Steuard Jensen
Douglas Henderson
Not a problem. In Xena episodes the dead regularly come back to life
(but, and this is a question, is it a lesbian fox?), this could be an
Obi-wan Kisane (Fox) ("Frodo, Frodo, go with the farce) or a Hamlet Fox
("List, List, listserve, I am the unhappy spirit of that Fox that was
foredestined to give warning of thy plight, but was doomed to foul and
untimely death when Worcestshire sauce was poured into my ear.")
Nicolas Masson
> This is actually scary, does this mean we will someday be doing exegesis
> on the e-text?
LotR itself was nothing but a transcription of The Red Book.
I suddenly have a _horrible_ doubt about the so-called "original"...
--
Nicolas Masson
"Signature en travaux"
Prembone
Douglas Henderson <kungm...@mindspring.com> wrote:
> remember what the elves were eating, barbecued fox!
>
> This is actually scary, does this mean we will someday be doing
exegesis
> on the e-text?
Well, I for one was wondering if that barbecued fox had wings.
--
Prembone
*********
The Prembone Pages: Humor, Opinion, Parody, Satire
http://prembone.tsx.org/
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.
PaulB
>This is actually scary, does this mean we will someday be doing exegesis
>on the e-text?
All posts on this topic should be saved in order that one day other may write
HoMELi: The History of Middle-Earth Light.
Breathe
Peace
PB
"... the essence of myth [is] that it have no taint of allegory to the maker
and yet should suggest incipient allegories to the reader..."
C. S. Lewis, having read "The Lay of Leithian"
kungm...@mindspring.com
wrote:
><In article <391AAE2C...@mindspring.com>,
>< Douglas Henderson <kungm...@mindspring.com> wrote:
><
><> remember what the elves were eating, barbecued fox!
><>
><> This is actually scary, does this mean we will someday be doing
><exegesis
><> on the e-text?
><
><
><Well, I for one was wondering if that barbecued fox had wings.
"Elrond stared into the dying embers of the barbecue fire, the mask of
the tasty fox coruscating with a dull glow. He felt that it seemed to
have something to tell him, something important, something that would
be a PLOT POINT. Almost against his will, his hand moved in a
commanding gesture.
Out of the fire a voice spoke..."
--
\/ \/ \/ \/
Sindamor Pandaturion
TSignus
chapter that has no author.
-TS
Conrad Dunkerson
The Old Forest
Frodo woke suddenly. It was still dark in the room, and he
felt almost as if he were falling. A moment later he hit the
floor. Blearily he looked up to see the light of a candle flame
burning in the doorway. 'What? What is it?' said Frodo, still
shaken and bewildered.
Out of the fire there spoke a voice, 'What is it!' cried
Mobster. 'I have been pounding on your door for five minutes.
It's nearly ten, Fatty's eaten half your breakfast and we must be
leaving soon. You'll have to make do with the scraps while I get
the ponies ready.'
It was, of course, not so bad as all that. Fatty had prepared
more than enough for a hobbit twice Frodo's size and there was
plenty left. So Frodo had a nice breakfast with eggs and sausages
while the others finished preparations for the journey ahead.
Soon after twelve o'clock the five hobbits were ready to
start. Frodo was still yawning. Mobster went in front leading an
overburdened pony, and took his way along a path that went through
a small grove behind the house, and then trampled across several
fields.
In a shed they found their ponies; four sturdy beasts of the
kind loved by hobbits. They mounted, and were soon riding along
under the midday sun. Ahead of them loomed the Hedge.
'How are you going to get through the Hedge?' asked Fatty.
'I will show you!' said Mobster. He turned left along the
Hedge, and they came to a ramp leading down. A passage had been
dug into the earth and walled with brick, forming a tunnel leading
under the Hedge and into the Forest on the far side.
Here Fatty stopped, quailing at the sight of the trees. 'Good-
bye friends!' he said. 'I wish you were not going into the
Forest. I'm afraid there won't be anyone to rescue you, but good
luck to you.'
'Tell Gandalf to go along the East Road; we shall soon be back
on it ourselves.' said Frodo. They waved and disappeared into the
tunnel.
They passed a gate on the far side and Mobster locked it behind
them.
'Well!' said Mobster. 'We have left the Shire, and are now on
the edge of the Old Forest.'
'Are the stories true?' asked Pipsqueak, casting a glance back
to the tunnel.
'I don't know which stories you mean,' answered Mobster. 'I
don't believe those old bogey stories such as Fatty's nurses used
to tell him. Goblins and wolves and walking trees! No, I don't
think so, but the Forest is queer. Sometimes you'll feel someone
watching you, but when you look about there's no one there. There
are queer things living deep in the Forest, and in the downs on the
far side and someone makes tracks amongst the trees. Not far from
this tunnel there should be a path which will take us northeast
through the Forest. Due east would put us onto the Downs and south
would take us to the Witherwander River which starts out on the
Downs and joins the Brandywine in the south of the Forest. No
hobbit has ever charted its full course. We don't want to go THAT
way! The Witherwander valley is the worst part of the whole wood -
full of bogs and swamps, sinking sands and unfriendly creatures.'
The hobbits now left the Hedge and rode up another ramp to the
floor of the Forest. The trees were thick about them almost
immediately, trunks of innumerable sizes and shapes: straight or
bent, twisted, leaning, squat or slender, smooth or gnarled and
branched or branchless, clustered or scattered, tall, short,
lightning scarred, intertwined, infested, bewebbed, mossy, dark,
damp, shimmering, peeling, vine covered, young or old, flowering,
deciduous, coniferous, fruit bearing, creaking, cracked, hollow,
budding and dying, burned, slimy, shaggy, scaley, green, grey,
brown, and, well, just a very lot of different kinds of trees.
They went on for some time, the ponies carefully picking their
way through the twisted and interlacing roots. The ground rose
steadily, and as they went forward it seemed as if the trees became
taller, darker, thicker, danker, and a great many other ominous
adverbs as well. They could catch only occasional glimpses of the
Sun through the thick trees overhead, and each time they did they
seemed to have veered somewhat off course and would have to turn
again to the northeast. After an hour or two the trees closed
overhead completely, wrapping them in a twilight gloom that left
them guessing at their direction and able to do little more than
move steadily forward.
The afternoon was wearing away when they stumbled into a deep
fold in the ground. It was so steep and overhung that it proved
impossible to climb out of, in either direction, without leaving
their ponies behind. As that would require carrying their own
food, and rather alot of it at that, it was completely out of the
question. All they could do was to follow the fold - downwards.
The ground grew soft, and in places boggy, and soon they found
themselves following a brook that trickled and babbled through a
weedy bed.
There was not yet any sign of a path, and the others began to
wonder if Mobster were not completely lost. Pipsqueak suddenly
felt that he could not bear it any longer, and without warning let
out a shout. 'Oi! Ai! Ee!' he cried. No one was quite sure why.
'You don't have any idea where you are going, do you!'
Mobster shot him a venomous look, a glare that would have
warned any of his business associates against further words. 'I
should not shout if I were you,' said Mobster.
Pipsqueak, however, was undeterred. 'It has not taken you long
to lose us!' Mobster's face became grim and he nudged his pony
forward with blood in his eyes. It might have gone badly for
Pipsqueak then, but just as Mobster was drawing close Sam let out a
whistle and pointed ahead.
'Look, isn't that an opening up ahead?' asked Sam.
A short distance ahead the gully came to an end and led quite
suddenly out of the gloom. The stream flowed down into a dark
river of brown water, bordered with ancient willows, arched over
with willows, blocked with fallen willows, flecked with thousands
of faded willow leaves, and otherwise heavily bewillowed. The late
afternoon sun shone golden through the break in the trees,
illuminating a faint footpath running along the bank of the river.
'Well, I know precisely where we are' said Mobster, speaking
quickly before any more comments about his navigational abilities
might be made. 'This is the River Witherwander! We have strayed
just a little from our path.' Pipsqueak looked about to protest,
but Mobster spoke on unheeding. 'Perhaps there is some truth to
those old stories about the trees moving of their own accord after
all. They could have cut off our path and herded us here. That
must be it.'
Seeing nothing else for it, the hobbits filed out and Mobster
led them down to the riverside. There they stopped to water the
ponies and take a brief rest. The long ride had worn them down and
the soft grass beneath the willow trees was a welcome change of
seating as they refilled their own water bottles. They yawned,
lightly at first, weariness seeming to creep over them now that
they could take a break at last.
Frodo felt his chin go down and his head nod. Off to his side
Mobster and Pipsqueak had wandered over to a great knotted old
willow and were resting against it. Sam had stopped, pretty much
where his pony had, and sat blinking stupidly about himself.
Frodo felt that some cool water might help revive him and
wandered towards the riverbank, half in a daze. He did not even
know he had reached the riverbank until he tripped over a root of
the old willow and fell headfirst into the water with a great
splash. He broke back to the surface a moment later, gasping and
sputtering. 'Help! Help!', he cried, as he attempted
ineffectually to reach the shore. As the slow current carried him
away Frodo could see his friends half stirring in response to his
cries, but then settling back into weary sleep.
Choking now and fearing he would follow his parents into a
watery grave Frodo thought he dimly heard a voice as he drifted out
of sight and conciousness: a deep glad voice, singing carelessly
and happily:
Hey doll! merry doll! ring a ding dial-O!
Ring a ding! hop along! follow the willow!
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadildo
With a last gasp of effort Frodo kicked himself to the surface
of the water and cried out once more before sinking beneath the
surface. He felt the cold darkness settle over him, and knew no
more.
Until a moment later when he was pulled coughing and sputtering
from the water by strong hands. He hung helplessly, spitting up
water and a tragically large portion of his breakfast, before he
could begin to breathe normally again and get his first clear look
at his rescuer.
It was a man, or so he seemed. At any rate he was too large
and heavy for an ordinary hobbit, if not quite tall enough for one
of the Big People. He had a long brown beard; his eyes were blue
and bright, and his face was red as a ripe apple. He wore yellow
boots, a blue coat and a battered hat with a tall crown and a long
blue feather stuck in the band. In his free hand (Frodo was
dangling precariously from the other) he carried on a large leaf as
on a tray a pile of white water-lillies and a small doll. Frodo
found himself noting that the doll looked much like the man
himself, save that its hat seemed to sport a peacock feather rather
than a kingfisher.
'Whoa! steady there!' cried the old man, and Frodo stopped
squirming as if he had been struck stiff. 'Now, my little fellow.
Where be you a-going to, breathing like a fish? What's the matter
here then? Do you know who I am? I'm Tom Bombadil.'
'My friends and I were lost. I fell in the water and they all
went to sleep. I could have drowned!' cried Frodo breathlessly.
'What?' shouted Tom Bombadil, leaping up in the air and giving
Frodo quite a jolt. 'Friends napping when help is being needed?
Let's go and see this.' He set Frodo down and they made their way
back up the path to where the other hobbits were sleeping.
Tom let out a great laugh and sang a bit of his nonsense rhyme,
though Frodo looked fit to boil. The three hobbits woke and sat
up, rubbing thier eyes at this strange apparition.
'Frodo!' cried Sam, seeing his master all wet and bedraggled.
'What happened?'
'What happened?' yelled Frodo with some heat. 'I nearly
drowned while you three had a nice nap.'
The three jumped up, all trying to explain at once; 'We were
bespelled!', 'The sleep...', 'I just closed my eyes for a moment!',
'Why'd you go fall in the water anyway...'
Looking around Sam suddenly pointed at the great grey willow
under which they had all slept. 'That... that there willow, it
must be one of those walking trees. I'd bet it put us all to sleep
I would!' The others gaped and then nodded quickly in agreement.
Tom regarded the hobbits with great amusement and laughed
again. 'Oh, the old 'willow-man' was it? Well, that's as may be,
but Tom Bombadil must be going. You should all come home with me.
The table is laden with yellow cream, honeycomb, and white bread
and butter. Goldberry is waiting. You follow me as quick as you
are able.' With that he gave a beckoning wave and went hopping and
dancing along the path eastward, still singing loudly and
nonsensically.
Hey! Come merry doll! daring doll! My darling!
Hop along little friends, up the Witherwander.
Tom's going on ahead to get the ponies fodder.
Goldberry will make the beds and set the board,
With bread and honey and sweet delights, the River daughter.
Hey now! merry doll! We'll be waiting for you!
They all stared after him for a long moment, but the promise of
food and good beds would draw any hobbit. And so they started
after him, still arguing amongst themselves;
'You know, now that I think of it... that willow root that
tripped me DID seem to move of it's own accord.'
'I think he was an entwife', opined Pipsqueak.
'A what?'
'An entwife. Old Bilbo told me a story about them... no, not
one of THOSE stories.'
Up ahead the trees parted and a house lay beneath the dark
shapes of the Barrow-downs. Golden light spilled out over the
threshold and they hurried forward.
Jonas Thorell
>Out of the fire there spoke a voice,
Not yet....
/Jonas
Conrad Dunkerson
news:B3HT4.14$e61....@dummy.bahnhof.se...
> Conrad Dunkerson wrote:
>> Out of the fire there spoke a voice,
> Not yet....
Foreshadowing. :)
Morgil
as a new message and not as a reply. Not a big deal but anyway...
Morgil
Steuard Jensen
> I think it would make things easier if each new chapter would be
> posted as a new message and not as a reply. Not a big deal but
> anyway...
You think so? Perhaps you're right, although it should show up
reasonably clearly in the article list as long as the authors change
the subject line as Conrad did. If enough people feel this way, I'll
change the recommendation in the "writer's guide". :)
Steuard Jensen
Steuard Jensen
> Chapter VI
> The Old Forest
Thank you! :) The references to our old discussions are great, the
play on Tolkien's rather lengthy descriptions (particularly of trees)
had me laughing at once, and I'm really looking forward to learning
the significance of Tom's (namesake) doll in the next installment. :)
(Perhaps Goldberry will have one too...?) Presumably, everyone who
has asked for a chapter thus far has gotten one?
Steuard Jensen
Juho Pahajoki
If there'll lots of that 'scholarly talk' that we saw before, then it might
be best to make every chapter a new post. Besides, I'm lazy and looking for
new chapters from long threads is difficult. I as a lazy read suggest that
each chapter would be a new post with a subject line that tells it's number
and name.
--
"But why, my dear Crito, should we care about the opinion of the many?
Good men, and they are the only persons who are worth considering,
will think of these things truly as they happened."
-- Socrates to Crito, in "Crito"
Aris Katsaris
Steuard Jensen <sbje...@midway.uchicago.edu> wrote in message
news:LkKT4.54$v3.595@uchinews...
> Quoth "Morgil" <rim...@hotmail.com>:
> > I think it would make things easier if each new chapter would be
> > posted as a new message and not as a reply. Not a big deal but
> > anyway...
>
> You think so? Perhaps you're right, although it should show up
> reasonably clearly in the article list as long as the authors change
> the subject line as Conrad did. If enough people feel this way, I'll
> change the recommendation in the "writer's guide". :)
>
I agree that it would be better if each chapter was posted as a new message.
I believe btw that I'll post chapter 7 either tonight, or tomorrow morning.
Aris Katsaris
Prembone
"Aris Katsaris" <kats...@otenet.gr> wrote:
> I believe btw that I'll post chapter 7 either tonight, or tomorrow
morning.
Yes, do! I can't access newsgroups from work, and I now work weekends,
so if the chapter's up today I can get my final draft of 8 written and
posted by Thursday, at the latest, so we can keep things rolling right
along!
I'm having fun with this, in case anyone can't tell. ;-) And one of my
sisters damn near laughed herself into an asthma attack reading the
chapters posted thus far.
--
Prembone