[Morthoron]

Expose #4: The Dark Elf passes an afternoon engaged in rhyming repartee with Tom Bombadil.

The Dark Elf: Excuse me, Mr. Bombadil...

Tom Bombadil: Hey dol, merry dol, the wind is in the willows...

TDE: Excuse me, sir...

TB: Goldberry's got a bottom like a pair of silken pillows...

TDE: Ummm, Mr. Bombadil?

TB: I often like to think on them to help regain my wits...

TDE: Errrr....

TB: They're almost as pleasant to ponder as her perky little...

TDE: MR. BOMBADIL!

TB: Hey there! Ho, there! What you be a-doing here while I'm a-singing about me main squeeze-o?

TDE: Ummm...Hello, Mr. Bombadil, I've come to interview you...

TB: Naught worse than that, eh? Had a reporter up this away-o that done got eaten by Old Man Willow. Must've asked the wrong question.

TDE: Well, I'll try my best to...

TB: Old Man Willow, I said, what be you a-chewing? Spit out that reporter or it'll be your own undoing!

TDE: Interesting, but...

TB: Spit him out this instant or you'll live to regret it!

TDE: Well, see...

TB: Cos' I'm Jolly Tom the censor and you're about to get an edit! Heh, a little newspaper humor-o.

TDE: Yes. Very little. Now, let's talk about your avant-garde fashion sense.

TB: Tom Bombadil-o, such a fashionable feller: blue coat, brown beard and boots colored yeller!

TDE: Yes, like Santa Claus on hallucinogens.

TB: Tom pays no attention to trends. Tom was here before the first squirrel dropping. Tom is older than Cirdan's prostate gland!

TDE: Yes, and Tom talks in third person like an NBA star. Now, back to your fashion...ummm...sense?

TB: Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow; bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow!

TDE: Ah, yes...We've established that...

TB: Eh, what? I didn't quite hear you. Nay, I was singing...

TDE: Yes, I...

TB: Old Tom don't behave quite the way he oughter, ever since he's gone and knocked up the River daughter...

TDE: Knocked up? You have children?

TB: Hey-dol merry-dol, we bred like bawdy rabbits; hence there came the race as known as Tom's naughty Habbits!

TDE: Habbits? Are you implying that Hobbits...

TB: They're merry, write bad poetry and are prone to do a jig...

TDE: Well, yes...

TB: Their short on mannish stature and they eat like wee li'l pigs...

TDE: I suppose...

TB: They're known to be good gardeners and farmers in the wheat...

TDE: Ummm...

TB: But mostly they dress badly and have hairy little feet...

TDE: Hairy feet? Do you have hairy feet?

TB: No, nay, never! Tom aint got no hairy feet! He wears his yellow bootses so his toes stay smellin' sweet!

TDE: Then who?

TB: *Motions the Dark Elf closer and whispers* It's Goldberry...she's French.

TDE: I don't see what that has to do...

TB: Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o! Hey! Come merry-dol! Her feet are rather hairy-o!

TDE: *Rolls his eyes* This isn't Middle-earth! Come now, where's Mad Hatter and the March Hare?

TB: Tom don't quite know those folks. They mustn't be from around these here parts.

TDE: One can never be sure...

TB: Hey dol! Ho dol! Old Tom has got to run. Supper's on the table and Goldberry's got warm buns!

TDE: A double entendre, I am sure.

TB: Surely! I told you she was French!

TDE: Yes, I suppose you did...and don't call me Shirley.