Middle Earth Idol

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Well," said the surprisingly still alive Hookbill, "Good evening. Welcome to the Barrow Downs... that’s a silly thing to say, I suppose you live here, anyway... Here is a song about a man they called Harold the Baggins, a Hobbit restaurant owner."

***

News:

A well-known Hobbit restaurant-owner
disappeared early this morning.
Last seen in a mouse-brown Elven cloak
suitably camouflaged,
they saw him on a horse.

Man-in-the-street:

"Father of three its disgusting"
"Such a horrible thing to do"
Harold the Baggins cut off his toes
and he served them all for tea
"Can't go far", "He can't go far".
"Hasn't got a leg to stand on"
"He can't go far".

Hobbit-on-the-spot:

I'm standing in a doorway in By-water
tension is mounting
There's a restless crowd of angry Shire folk

Hobbit-on-the-council:

"More than we've ever seen.
- had to tighten up security"

Over to the scene at Michel Delving
The Shire Mayor's ready to speak

Mayor:

"Man of suspicion, you can't last long,
The Public is on our side"

Public:

"Can't last long", "You can't last long".
"Said you couldn't trust him, his brother was just the same"
"You can't last long".

Harold:

If I was many miles from here,
I'd be sailing in an open boat on the sea
Instead I'm on this window ledge,
With the whole world below
Up at the window
Look at the window...

Mr.Plod:

"We can help you
We can help you
We're all your friends, if you come on down
And talk to us son"

Harold:

You must be joking
Take a running jump

The crowd was getting stronger and our Harold
getting weaker;
Forwards, backwards, swaying side to side
Fearing the very worst
They called his mother to the sight
Upon the ledge beside him
His mother made a last request.

67-yr-old Mrs Baggins:

"Come off the ledge
if your father were alive he'd be very,
very, very upset.
"Just can't jump, you just can't jump"
"Your shirt's all dirty, there's a man here from
the B.B.C.*"
"You just can't jump"

Mr. Plod:

"We can help you"
"We can help you"
"We're all your friends, if you come on down
and talk to us Harry"

Harold:

You must be joking.
Take a running jump......

* The Barrow Broadcasting Co-operation.


And Hookbill did take a running jump... out of the window as bottles and other things flew onto the stage.

[Anguirel]

Are we no longer getting Cowell critiques?

Oh well. I like so many ballads it was hard to choose, but I will be performing the traditional Banks of the Bann (retitled Doriath Glade) in the tenor voice of Beren.

When first unto this forest as a stranger I came
I placed my affections on a maid (yet not young)
Her being fair and tender, her waist small and slender
Kind Fortune had formed her for my overthrow.

In that Doriath glade, it was there I first met her
She appeared like fair Varda, Valinor's bright queen,
Her eyes shone like Sil-maaa-rils, or like stars in the heavens
Her cheeks were like roses, or like blood drops in snow.

It was her cruel parents that first caused our variance
Because she is rich and above my degree
But I'll do my endeavour to gain my love's favour
Though her father demands one of Feee-anor's gems.

My name's son of Barahir, a name that Orcs fear
And if I had companions I'd have never have roamed
But scouting and thieving, night raiding and reaving
Were the cause of my ruin and the loss o' my home.

O, had I the riches that's in the West Havens
I'd put rings on her fingers and gold at her feet
And there in the midst of that Doriath glade
In innocent splendour I'd live with my love.

[Sleepy Ranger]

Cowell has exams hence Cowell shall not be active for a while. Apologies to all those who have been benifiting from his precise judgements.

[The Only Real Estel]

Well as usual I’m Estel and, since I am not as well versed in ballads as Anguirel , I had very few to choose from.

So I went with one of Valesse's examples: "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes. This is a play on that one entitled "The Bolsterman" (yes, the same bolsterman that Nob fashioned as a sacrifice for Frodo in the Prancing Pony ), sung in the voice of Aragorn, because he knew all the songs didn't he?


PART ONE
I (I)

The wind was a stormy gale among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly white, unchanged by the forceful breeze,,
The inn was as quite as a mouse, with hardly even a snore,,
And the bolsterman was lying—
Lying—lying—
The bolsterman was lying, as they came up to the old inn door.

II (II)

He'd a woolen brown mat for his "head," a bunch of blanket at his "chin,"
A comforter of the greatest comfort, and a bit bunched up at the end;
In the sky was nary a twinkle: it seemed a good night to die.
He lay without causing a wrinkle,
The stars still held back their twinkle,
As the wraiths began to slink(le?)*, under the veiled sky.

III (III)

Over the cobbles they cautiously crept in the dark inn-yard,
And they tapped with their fists on the windows, but all was locked and barred;
They glared darkly at the window, and what should happen then
But a single blow to the window,
Just a single blow to the window,
A stealthy blow to the window and then, the window was now forced in.

IV (V)

"All right, my fellow servants. We're after a prize tonight,,
But we shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press us sharply, and harry us, causing a fray,
Then look for It by moonlight,
Watch for It by moonlight,
We'll come to It by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

PART TWO

I (II)


They said no word to the landlord, they just climbed in instead,
But they saw the helpless hobbit - looking fast asleep in his bed;
Two of them knelt at the casement, with drawn swords at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For the bolsterman could see, that now turning was the tide.

II (III)

They had circled the bed with intention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had found a jacket beside the bed, with a 'Baggins' sewed on the breast!
"Now, keep it secret!" they hissed to him.
He heard the dead men say—
Look for It by moonlight;
Watch for It by moonlight;
We'll come to It by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

III (VII)

Clink-clink, in the frosty silence! Clink-clink, in the echoing night!
Nearer they crept and nearer! Their swords were a pale light!
His eyes grew wide for a moment; he drew one last deep breath,
Then the figures moved in the moonlight,
Their sword thrusts shattered the moonlight,
Shattered the bolster in the moonlight and slashed him—intending death.

IV (VIII)

They turned; they looked upon the bed; they knew it was not Baggins who lay
Still, with his "head" upon the pillow, slashed with their own dark swords!
Not till the light shown in, their faces turned on his form
And saw the bolsterman they'd "slaughtered,"
The bolsterman they'd thought they'd slaughtered,
He'd taken Baggin's place in the moonlight, and "died" in the darkness there.

IX

Now, they screeched like madmen, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the bolsterman lying before them, and moonlight to see him by!
They climbed from the room in the waning night; denied their chance to gloat,
And they shot down the lane on their way,
Down like lightening on the lane,
And he lay in his bed in the inn, with tatters of blanket at his throat.

* * * * * *

X

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly white, unchanged by the forceful breeze,
When the inn is quite as a mouse, with hardly even a snore,
A bolsterman is lying—
Lying—lying—
A bolsterman is lying, playing his role evermore.

XI

Over the cobbles they may cautiously creep, in the dark inn-yard,
They tap with their fists on the windows, but all is locked and barred;
A dark glare at the window, and what should happen then
But a single blow to the window,
Just a single blow to the window,
A stealthy blow to the window and then, the window is forced in.

And the bolsterman lies within.

*Yes, I am aware that there is no such word as "slinkle."

[Celuien]

This is a ballad sung by Finduilas as Turin is deaf to her cries for help. It's based on a traditional ballad out of Kentucky that has become somewhat more famous in recent years...

I am a maid of constant sorrow
I've seen trouble all my days.
I bid farewell to old Nargothrond
The place where I dwelt many days.
(The place where she dwelt many days.)

For many long years I've been in trouble
No love from you have I found
Now comes Glaurung, and you've been spellbound
I have no friends to help me now.

(chorus) She has no friends to help her now

It's fare thee well my own true love
I never expect to see you again
For I'm bound to end in curséd Angband
I'll die before you come again.

(chorus) She'll die before you come again.

You can bury me in some green mound
For many years where I may lay
Then you may learn to love another
While I am sleeping in my grave.

(chorus) While she is sleeping in her grave.

[The Saucepan Man]

Originally Posted by Valesse

The deadline is July 1st. Have fun!

Ai! I ain't gonna make it. If you could extend it a day or so, I would be grateful. If not, I'm outta here.

[littlemanpoet]

Greetings. I give you a perspective not often given. This is a song by Bobsegerdil, Burn the Mage.

{Sauron mulls it over}
In this tall and loathsome tower, east of Gorgoroth
You can hear the tortured prisoners moaning their lone song
You think about the Baggins who has your Ring; him it will cost.
But your thoughts begin their wandering, the way they always do.
When you're searching untold hours and you hope it won't be long.
And you don't see much of anything, you just wish you've finally won through.
You say, here I am, the Dark Lord again. There I am, lord of the age.
Here I go, Dark Lord again.
There I go. Burn the mage.
Well you see into a palantir, stung by the one on the road,
You can feel his eyes upon you as he shows his new-forged blade
You pretend it doesnt bother you, but you just want to explode.
Most times you ignore their talk, other times you don't.
Oh the same old battle, will they never bow to your command?
They always say you're too strong, then they still make a stand.
Here I am, the Dark Lord again. There I am, lord of the age.
Here I go, Dark Lord again.
There I go. Burn that mage.
Out there beyond Mordor you're a miles and miles away,
Every ounce of will, they use against you all day,
As the Ring wears down Baggins' body with the torture that you play.
Later in the darkness as you watch with lidless eye,
With the echo from the torturers singing like a sigh,
You stoke the fires of Mount Doom, fearing hidden lore.
Now here I am, Dark Lord again. There I am, lord of the age.
Here I go. Dark Lord again.
There I go. Burn the mage.
Here I am, Dark Lord again. There I am, lord of the age.
Ah here I go, Dark Lord again.
There I go. Burn that mage!
************************************************** *********************
On a long and lonesome highway, east of omaha.
You can listen to the engine moaning out its one lone song
You can think about woman, or the girl you knew the night before,
But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do.
When your riding sixteen hours and theres nothing much to do
And you dont feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through.
Say, here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Well you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road,
You can feel the eyes upon you as your shaking off the cold
You pretend it doesnt bother you, but you just want to explode.
Most times you cant hear em talk, other times you can.
Oh the same old cliche, as that woman on her a man
You always see my number, you dont dare make a stand.
Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Out there in the spotlight your a million miles away,
Every ounce of energy, you try and give away,
As the sweat pours out your body like the music that you play.
Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed,
With the echo from the amplifiers ringing in your head,
You smoke the days last cigarette, remembering what she said.
Now here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Ah here I go, playing star again.
There I go, there I go.

[Sleepy Ranger]

Originally Posted by The Saucepan Man

Ai! I ain't gonna make it. If you could extend it a day or so, I would be grateful. If not, I'm outta here.

Consider it extended.