The Tone Deaf Minstrel

Mousey the Minstrel was renown

For his ‘talent’ in his singing

His tone deafness, to him, unknown

Villagers’ ears would be ringing!

For those who heard his awful voice

Would howl in pain and hold their ears

“Give us silence and we’ll rejoice!

We’ve tolerated him for years!”

One night when Mousey was in bed

The townsfolk made an evil plot

“We’ll cut away those strings instead,

Then all his songs can be forgot!”

The folks crept up to his small house

With a ladder to the first floor

“We will creep in through like a mouse

And his songs will be nevermore!”

They approached his bed, scissors ready

To cut the strings of his dear lute,

Holding their weapon a-steady

When one man tripped! SMASH! “Shh!! Be mute!”

“Hey! Who goes there?” the dwarf cried out

Poor Mousey’s heart was now racing

“How did all of this come about?”

Standing now, to the group facing.

“We wish you stop and hear us speak:

You are tone deaf, silly Minstrel!

You do not hum, you rather squeak,

You do not sing, you simply yell!”

Mousey replied, boastful and proud

“I am a dwarf of Khazad Dum,

Yes dwarves will shout, I am allowed!

Now leave me be or I’ll kick your bum!”

A Warden Afraid of Splinters

A Warden of noble descent

In the Old Forest he would dwell,

With beard brown and javelin bent

This strange fear we could not foretell:

To some of us we fear the dark,

Insect bites or a mighty height.

But to our brave Friend of the Mark

A splinter can be quite the fright.

Spear and javelin he would wield

Strengthening his agility,

Let’s not forget the wooden shield

Unfathomable ability!

One morning carving his new spear

He heard the charging of a boar,

The tusks our warden did not fear

But in agony he did roar!

The pig missed his Warden prey

Slipping on the wet morning grass,

Poor Celebrimbus’ delay

Caused a splinter into his ass.

“Oh you vile pig! Away with you!”

He cried, throwing his javelin.

“Leave me be, good riddance! Now shoo!”

And off the boar went travelling.

“Oh what am I to do with this?

A damn splinter in my butt cheek!

I’m in a terrible crisis…

This will hurt my butt for a week!”

And so he wore a thick, grey cloak

With gear to evade a splinter,

But still his fear of Elm and Oak

Will haunt him ‘til next winter!


You will now be known as Man-at-Arms Celebrimbus Splinterbottom, Warden of Annúminas to those you meet in your travels.