Autumn is hunting season, too. I'm trying to convince my husband to build a flet (talan) above the deer path that runs through my back yard. He could sit up there, arrow on string, and wait for Voracious Bambi to come by and browse on my forsythia. And the rest of the time, I could sit up there, pretending to be Frodo in Lothlorien on Haldir's flet, listening to Sam snore, or say, "Once I fall asleep, I shall stay asleep, whether I fall off or no. And the sooner you stop talking the sooner I'll drop off, if you take my meaning."
I'm supposed to be too old for this stuff. But it seems that the older I get, the more childish things I do. Or is that, the more hobbitish things I do?
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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