A minstrel sat by an apple tree
And played out softly melodies
Whilst busy hobbits passed him by
With scarce a glance from out their eyes
Too quick to note his smart green suit
Or hear the tunes flow from his lute
Or listen to his telling words
The only audience, the birds
Notice: With the Laurelin server shutting down, our website will soon reflect the Meriadoc name. You can still use the usual URL, or visit us at https://meriadocarchives.org/




