We little folk have the wolves in some disarray . . . 
Wolfy, wolfy, burning bright
In the inn yard late that night,
What brave Halfling's skillful eye
Assaults thy fearful symmetry?
Against what darkling deeps and skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
What little wings dared to aspire
To stop you cold with ash and fire?
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If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world – J.R.R. Tolkien
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