Thread: Mad Libs
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Old 11-02-2003, 11:59 AM   #197
Raefindel
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Sting

Fog on the Barrow-Downs

There was a loud rumbling sound, as of snakes dancing and puking, and suddenly cats streamed in, real cats, the plain cats of day. A low door-like opening appeared at the end of the chamber beyond Frodo's knee; and there was Tom's ankle (sock, boot, and all) framed against the light of the sun rising red behind him. The light fell upon the floor, and upon the ears of the three hobbits lying beside Frodo. They did not climb, but the sickly hue had left them. They looked now as if they were only very pregnant.

Tom stooped, removed his kilt, and came into the dark chamber, singing:

Get out, you old ladybug! Vanish in the curling iron!
Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,
Out into the deadly river far beyond the hill!
Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!
Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,
Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended.


At these words there was a ring and part of the inner end of the chamber fell in with a clang. Then there was a long trailing splat, fading away into an unguessable distance; and after that silence.

Yikes! The thought of Tom without his kilt gave me nightmares!
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