Eodwine's "ditty"
"I was just thinking of the moon," Eodwine said to his two drinking partners, and it has put me in mind of a song. I heard it from a fellow soldier, who insists that he had it from a halfling of the north. Quite an odd song really, and my memory may fail me. I goes like this."
"There is an inn, a merry ol' inn
'neath an ol' gray hill,
An' there they brew an ale so frothy
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one nigh' to have a swill.
"The ostler has a booted cat
that sings and combs its hair;
And up and down he squeaks and howls,
Now meowing high, now purring low,
now pawing at the chair."
"Tha' part never did make sensssse to meep!" Eodwine murmured out of the side of his mouth to Lianda, but ended on a hiccup.
"The lan'lord keeps a little hog
tha' 's mighty fond of artichokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks his ear at all the jests
and grunts until he smokes."
"A silly song, really. Who ever heard of a 'og smoking because of jokes? Or is it grunts until he chokes? Or sings to all the folks? Or snorts until he chokes?" Eodwine shrugged his shoulders and quaffed his ale.
Lianda was talking to Umwë, smiling. "May I ask you the same question? I'm pretty sure you'd be able to answer with a little more certainty!"
"Wha' ques'ion?" Eodwine asked.
"H-how long have you b-been here?" Umwë supplied.
"Jus' t'day! I came in wi' the dawn from the Gap of Rohan. An' you, Umdilay?"
"Umwë," the Elf corrected politely.
"Ssssorry."
|