15 March 2004 | 100 words
In a tavern, near the stables,
Having ale and plates of boar,
Were some rangers and some soldiers,
Singing songs of days of yore.
In a corner of this fine inn,
Lurked two strangers unnoticed,
King and Steward, they sat listening
To the singing in their midst
Loud the voices of the men were
Ringing through the air so still,
As they raised their mugs of beer,
In a toast to Thorongil.
In the shadows, sat their hero,
Upon his face a look so bleak,
For the song was one he had dreaded,
In the worst of all his dreams.
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