Stone-troll

The sound of horse hooves pounding against the earth resounded. At exhilerating speeds, the small group of riders thundered across the hilly, boulder ridden landscape. Each rock could hide a new threat, another machination of the Dark Lord Morgoth. These riders knew this, for they scouted this area every day. The darkness of the Thrangorodrim's fumes touched this land; though it was broken and thin compared to the foot of the Iron Mountains.

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.

Odsi Ironarm commissioned me to write a jingle for his latest concoction: Iron Ale.

It's so good, a pail of it can kill a troll dead.

Lyrics:

~ Ironale, Ironale, ~
~ Best when served inside a pail, ~
~ When you drink, you'll never fail - ~
~ To be on a roll, ~
~ Like a dead troll, ~
~ And all that rigamarol-lo-lo-lol! ~
~ Ironale, in a pail, without fail! ~

Sheet Music:

((a sheet of musical notes sits before you, for lute.  Half of the page is blank it's so short!

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.