troll

Tall and proud I' Hosse rides
Cross dark and wild places.
Behind Talfalco on his steed,
His pony has short paces,
For Halfling ponies are quite small,
Their size not built for races.

Lodhreth, he the warrior true,
Bids straight to make their pathing.
Talfalco, lagging, turns aside,
To find a cause for laughing.
And such a foolish choice did cause
What we in aftermath sing.

1 Of the Knot and the Troll begins here the tale
And not to forget of a woman of Dale
Skjalddís the Snjógvurdreiki she was called
Men light of heart who beheld her were appalled

2 She was high in growth and mighty of hand
Also the Knot came from the very same land
Alfknutr, the Ælf-Knot he was named
Stolen the secret of elven rope he claimed

And out somewhere in the cold, merciless peaks of the accursed Misty Mountains, home to few travellers and fraught with peril and danger at every turn, were two Elves, fighting against the cold in the Middle of nowehere, facing the frosty winds that blew on their faces like cold knives...

Author's Note: Yay! After going through a melancholy period where I absolutely stayed uninspired for most of the time and actually refused to spurn out some work, I found the courage to pick up the left-over drafts and get on with some storytelling. I was pretty much being a grumpy git, but when I saw the Fanfictions about Arthur and Ariadne (Inception ftw. Best film + Best couple to ship = epic inspiration!

Daerundros sighed as she picked up her sword from the corner of her room. Taking a rather good look about her, she smiled warily as she began tidying the bed, cleaning up messes, and stuffing unneeded things to drawers, chests... it would be a long day. Soon enough, flowers were in their vases, vases on the tables, pots and kettles back in their proper places, drawers, chests, and wardrobes all sealed shut, and every mess that had been lying somewhere was tidied up. Not one single speck of dirt could be found on Daerundros' silk bed.