WAAAAHHHH! My fic's already over!!!!
To all of ya that read and enjoyed (and most importantly reviewed) this thing, let me just say: THANKIES!
Disclaimer: I ownth not Lord of the Rings
Claimer: I ownth Ranhaudh and the songs I made up. And oh yeah, the plot. That's mine too.
.
.
.
.
.
"Wake up! Wake up, Ranhaudh! You are going to miss it!"
Ranhaudh woke up with a tremendous yawn.
"HWOOOAAAWWWNN! Feathers and fur take you, Bilbo Baggins, as I was just eating the largest bowl of strawberry and honey pie ever seen on the face of Middle-Earth," the wolf said as he stretched, "Whatever is so important?"
"It's the Last Great Feast of the Last Homely House," the ancient Hobbit said, tapping Ranhaudh on the nose with his cane, "Although Lord Elrond does not seem to care for the name entirely, but enough idle chatter! I came all this way to fetch you; and if we are not careful then we shall both be late!"
"Shall you hop on my back and let me carry you there, for old times sake?" Ranhaudh inquired.
"Ageless hound," Bilbo said, but the twinkle in his eye dispelled all ill will.
.
.
.
.
.
For simply enough, Ranhaudh was unchanged, and had aged not during their long stay at Rivendell together. He had been awake during the fuss called the War of the Ring, but had chosen to remain in Rivendell with his hobbit friend.
In fact, the only significant thing Ranhaudh had done was step outside to let out a particularly peculiar howl at the very instant when the Enemy had been defeated and the One Ring had been destroyed. Ranhaudh would develop a mysterious hearing problem whenever Bilbo asked him about it, until the hobbit finally stopped asking.
The great wolf had woken up few times since then, but the cooks in the kitchens of Imladris seemed to prefer it when Ranhaudh slept then to when he waked: his last meal had been two years ago and had cost almost all of the food in their storehouses.
.
.
.
.
.
Ranhaudh and Bilbo were inside and at their seats within moments. The feast was very informal, and the food was simply passed around those gathered while whoever wished to stepped up to sing. Much was sang about Valinor and the Undying Lands, to which these elves would soon be heading. Ranhaudh downed his third bowl of honey before stepping up with an odd look upon his features.
"I believe I wish to sing a song," Ranhaudh said.
"My dear Ranhaudh! And here I thought you were sleeping! You have been writing songs and only pretending to sleep this whole time, haven't you?" said Bilbo, and many elves agreed with him
"As a matter of fact, I have been very much asleep," Ranhaudh corrected them, "There is a song in my throat now, though, concerning a friend of mine, and I shall dearly wish to sing it before it grows any staler. I do believe it is going to be a little length."
Everyone then sat and waited for the wolf to begin. Ranhaudh cleared his throat, calmly.
.
.
.
.
.
"Here now I wish to tell a tale
To ring throughout, from Morgul Vale
To Valinor across the sea
Of someone who was something more
Than anyone could see, although he
Reached it only very sore!
.
.
.
.
"A Halfling-hole dweller then was he
Of whom I speak, and was considered
Until this life's lee
A Hobbit of great dignity
Until a bliss filled morning when
From over hill and over hen
Came the great gray rolling-stone
Although he here came but alone
And though Hobbit bade the Gray to tea
An unexpected company
Was twelve come with grandson of a King
Under-A-Mountain, a Lonely thing
Beyond the reach of the Great Green!
.
.
.
.
"And so was he, of whom I speak
Elected to be number Fourteen
And luck he brought with him indeed
As towards Imladris they set their gaze
With only a short stop along the ways
With three trolls, called Tom, William, and Bert
Who are now three statues left in dirt
And of their treasure are three reclaimed
Swords of Gondolin, O swiftest glaives
Orcrist, Glamdring, and nameless Sting
To aid them then in this great thing!
.
.
.
.
"And past the Last Great Homely House
They found there terrors of Misty Mounts
But Orcrist holds as Biter fame
And Glamdring the goblins Beater named
Their Greatest was hew as company flew
Through mountain-heart and darkness-brew
But Burglar Hobbit had went astray
And found a dangerous game to play
Though before the game was sought
And while it was never then even thought
A thing of great importance now was done
For our Hobbit had then found the One
And it aided him in his escape
While secret in his pocket lay
The Hope for Doom in Middle-Earth
Although its secret bloomed in hearth
Much later, in turn with proper time of day
And fifteen birds in five firtrees
Were rescued by still greater wings
To spend time near to Carrock and to home
Of the one they called Beorn!
.
.
.
.
"Beyond lay Mirkwood, then darkness filled
With horrors that no dreams could still
Save for those who brave the dark and
Have arrows greater than the southern land
But here Fifteen was one the less
For Gray-crow did return to nest
Leaving them to go alone
And starve and thirst in forest loam
By Midsummer's Feasting did they arrive
At last upon the other side
Unwilling guests of Elvenking
With Burglar that cannot steal a thing
Save with the help of a ring
And repays all thefts in thrice measure
With later honest-gotten treasure
And out of the cells he did release them
Into barrels and rivers by the eastern
Edge of Wood, which carried them down
To a newer sort of town
That lost Dale-men built upon the Lake
To hide them from the terror-ache
Of the Dragon, who of they would have rather ate!
.
.
.
.
"And to Erebor they sought to ride
For hidden in the Western Side
Was a little hidden door
Too small for dragons of local sore
But revealed only on Durin's Day
Which luck again chose to aide their way
And upon the very next of days
Returned then Burglar with cup in haze
Of the golden works of Lords of Old
Whose bones lie now in earth-holes cold
But strong was Dragon's wrath a-stirred
And cast about for trespasser
But could not find them and lay to wait
Only to meet hidden Burglar the next of day
And tell him then in foolish boast
Of his jeweled and armored coat
That missed only a single spot
Which was more than enough
To send him down when off he flew to
Lake-Town to wreak havoc new
And dwarves called to their halls Amaze
For now our kingdom is reclaimed
But all was not as it was meant to be
Unfortunate power of golden greed
To send men to pillage supposed graves
Of the forgotten coward-sended brave
And here Elvenking sought such as well
But from Iron Hills came friends of Dale
And ere a bloody battle fell
Armies of goblins and wargs their friends
Did befell the lot of them!
.
.
.
.
"Of rest little needs be said
For eagles and Beorn the friend
Routed the foulness along with others
Who wanted no more of such bothers
And Grandson-King was laid to rest
His cousin left to rule instead
And Hobbit leaving back for home
With companion Gray and for while Beorn
Until at last all were at rest
Though our Hobbit found his fate's last jest
For though his great fortunes had amassed
Few of his spoons returned to their Master!
.
.
.
.
.
"Thank you!" Ranhaudh cried, panting for breath before delving deep into a nearly pitcher of wine.
The elves and the other guests that were visiting for the feast laughed and applauded and asked for an encore of Ranhaudh's song, but the wolf was not interested in singing again.
"But even whilst I was listening, I was also recording," said Elrond, and so he had written it down.
"Trust you to sing of my poor lost spoons, Ranhaudh!" laughed Bilbo.
.
.
.
.
The feasting and merriment lasted for the rest of the night, and by the end of the next day Imladris lay empty. Ranhaudh accompanied his hobbit friend along his last great journey to the Sea, but just as the boat was boarding the wolf vanished.
Bilbo felt a pang of sadness when the boat pushed off; but then a familiar voice rang out from the cliffs just as they were slowly drawing pass them.
"Farewell, My Good Little Hobbit! And let me properly thank you at long last for your line!
.
.
.
.
.
"Baroom Barram Baroom Barro/
Sun and sea and mountains flow/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barre/
The feet of deer are hard to sway/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barri/
A bird that flies falls out of the sky/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barra/
A little rabbit dances far/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barro/
And out to sea all dear friends go/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barre/
I wish them merry on their way/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barri/
But Valinor is not for me/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barra/
This Hunter's Son shall travel on/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barro/
Goodbye for now, Friend Bilbo!"
.
.
.
.
.
-Fin-
To all of ya that read and enjoyed (and most importantly reviewed) this thing, let me just say: THANKIES!
Disclaimer: I ownth not Lord of the Rings
Claimer: I ownth Ranhaudh and the songs I made up. And oh yeah, the plot. That's mine too.
.
.
.
.
.
"Wake up! Wake up, Ranhaudh! You are going to miss it!"
Ranhaudh woke up with a tremendous yawn.
"HWOOOAAAWWWNN! Feathers and fur take you, Bilbo Baggins, as I was just eating the largest bowl of strawberry and honey pie ever seen on the face of Middle-Earth," the wolf said as he stretched, "Whatever is so important?"
"It's the Last Great Feast of the Last Homely House," the ancient Hobbit said, tapping Ranhaudh on the nose with his cane, "Although Lord Elrond does not seem to care for the name entirely, but enough idle chatter! I came all this way to fetch you; and if we are not careful then we shall both be late!"
"Shall you hop on my back and let me carry you there, for old times sake?" Ranhaudh inquired.
"Ageless hound," Bilbo said, but the twinkle in his eye dispelled all ill will.
.
.
.
.
.
For simply enough, Ranhaudh was unchanged, and had aged not during their long stay at Rivendell together. He had been awake during the fuss called the War of the Ring, but had chosen to remain in Rivendell with his hobbit friend.
In fact, the only significant thing Ranhaudh had done was step outside to let out a particularly peculiar howl at the very instant when the Enemy had been defeated and the One Ring had been destroyed. Ranhaudh would develop a mysterious hearing problem whenever Bilbo asked him about it, until the hobbit finally stopped asking.
The great wolf had woken up few times since then, but the cooks in the kitchens of Imladris seemed to prefer it when Ranhaudh slept then to when he waked: his last meal had been two years ago and had cost almost all of the food in their storehouses.
.
.
.
.
.
Ranhaudh and Bilbo were inside and at their seats within moments. The feast was very informal, and the food was simply passed around those gathered while whoever wished to stepped up to sing. Much was sang about Valinor and the Undying Lands, to which these elves would soon be heading. Ranhaudh downed his third bowl of honey before stepping up with an odd look upon his features.
"I believe I wish to sing a song," Ranhaudh said.
"My dear Ranhaudh! And here I thought you were sleeping! You have been writing songs and only pretending to sleep this whole time, haven't you?" said Bilbo, and many elves agreed with him
"As a matter of fact, I have been very much asleep," Ranhaudh corrected them, "There is a song in my throat now, though, concerning a friend of mine, and I shall dearly wish to sing it before it grows any staler. I do believe it is going to be a little length."
Everyone then sat and waited for the wolf to begin. Ranhaudh cleared his throat, calmly.
.
.
.
.
.
"Here now I wish to tell a tale
To ring throughout, from Morgul Vale
To Valinor across the sea
Of someone who was something more
Than anyone could see, although he
Reached it only very sore!
.
.
.
.
"A Halfling-hole dweller then was he
Of whom I speak, and was considered
Until this life's lee
A Hobbit of great dignity
Until a bliss filled morning when
From over hill and over hen
Came the great gray rolling-stone
Although he here came but alone
And though Hobbit bade the Gray to tea
An unexpected company
Was twelve come with grandson of a King
Under-A-Mountain, a Lonely thing
Beyond the reach of the Great Green!
.
.
.
.
"And so was he, of whom I speak
Elected to be number Fourteen
And luck he brought with him indeed
As towards Imladris they set their gaze
With only a short stop along the ways
With three trolls, called Tom, William, and Bert
Who are now three statues left in dirt
And of their treasure are three reclaimed
Swords of Gondolin, O swiftest glaives
Orcrist, Glamdring, and nameless Sting
To aid them then in this great thing!
.
.
.
.
"And past the Last Great Homely House
They found there terrors of Misty Mounts
But Orcrist holds as Biter fame
And Glamdring the goblins Beater named
Their Greatest was hew as company flew
Through mountain-heart and darkness-brew
But Burglar Hobbit had went astray
And found a dangerous game to play
Though before the game was sought
And while it was never then even thought
A thing of great importance now was done
For our Hobbit had then found the One
And it aided him in his escape
While secret in his pocket lay
The Hope for Doom in Middle-Earth
Although its secret bloomed in hearth
Much later, in turn with proper time of day
And fifteen birds in five firtrees
Were rescued by still greater wings
To spend time near to Carrock and to home
Of the one they called Beorn!
.
.
.
.
"Beyond lay Mirkwood, then darkness filled
With horrors that no dreams could still
Save for those who brave the dark and
Have arrows greater than the southern land
But here Fifteen was one the less
For Gray-crow did return to nest
Leaving them to go alone
And starve and thirst in forest loam
By Midsummer's Feasting did they arrive
At last upon the other side
Unwilling guests of Elvenking
With Burglar that cannot steal a thing
Save with the help of a ring
And repays all thefts in thrice measure
With later honest-gotten treasure
And out of the cells he did release them
Into barrels and rivers by the eastern
Edge of Wood, which carried them down
To a newer sort of town
That lost Dale-men built upon the Lake
To hide them from the terror-ache
Of the Dragon, who of they would have rather ate!
.
.
.
.
"And to Erebor they sought to ride
For hidden in the Western Side
Was a little hidden door
Too small for dragons of local sore
But revealed only on Durin's Day
Which luck again chose to aide their way
And upon the very next of days
Returned then Burglar with cup in haze
Of the golden works of Lords of Old
Whose bones lie now in earth-holes cold
But strong was Dragon's wrath a-stirred
And cast about for trespasser
But could not find them and lay to wait
Only to meet hidden Burglar the next of day
And tell him then in foolish boast
Of his jeweled and armored coat
That missed only a single spot
Which was more than enough
To send him down when off he flew to
Lake-Town to wreak havoc new
And dwarves called to their halls Amaze
For now our kingdom is reclaimed
But all was not as it was meant to be
Unfortunate power of golden greed
To send men to pillage supposed graves
Of the forgotten coward-sended brave
And here Elvenking sought such as well
But from Iron Hills came friends of Dale
And ere a bloody battle fell
Armies of goblins and wargs their friends
Did befell the lot of them!
.
.
.
.
"Of rest little needs be said
For eagles and Beorn the friend
Routed the foulness along with others
Who wanted no more of such bothers
And Grandson-King was laid to rest
His cousin left to rule instead
And Hobbit leaving back for home
With companion Gray and for while Beorn
Until at last all were at rest
Though our Hobbit found his fate's last jest
For though his great fortunes had amassed
Few of his spoons returned to their Master!
.
.
.
.
.
"Thank you!" Ranhaudh cried, panting for breath before delving deep into a nearly pitcher of wine.
The elves and the other guests that were visiting for the feast laughed and applauded and asked for an encore of Ranhaudh's song, but the wolf was not interested in singing again.
"But even whilst I was listening, I was also recording," said Elrond, and so he had written it down.
"Trust you to sing of my poor lost spoons, Ranhaudh!" laughed Bilbo.
.
.
.
.
The feasting and merriment lasted for the rest of the night, and by the end of the next day Imladris lay empty. Ranhaudh accompanied his hobbit friend along his last great journey to the Sea, but just as the boat was boarding the wolf vanished.
Bilbo felt a pang of sadness when the boat pushed off; but then a familiar voice rang out from the cliffs just as they were slowly drawing pass them.
"Farewell, My Good Little Hobbit! And let me properly thank you at long last for your line!
.
.
.
.
.
"Baroom Barram Baroom Barro/
Sun and sea and mountains flow/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barre/
The feet of deer are hard to sway/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barri/
A bird that flies falls out of the sky/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barra/
A little rabbit dances far/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barro/
And out to sea all dear friends go/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barre/
I wish them merry on their way/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barri/
But Valinor is not for me/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barra/
This Hunter's Son shall travel on/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barro/
Goodbye for now, Friend Bilbo!"
.
.
.
.
.
-Fin-