I am nearing the end of the marshes at last. One more day and I will arrive upon the fields of the Brown Lands.
The dread of Mordor has receded. I feel renewed! Dark were my thoughts at times and darker still were my dreams. But now the time has come for some merriment again! I am fortunate to carry with me a small fiddle and I feel in the mood for a good song. One quite suited to my current adventure.
Slimy things and smelly scents,
creeped out the swampy land
We heard a cry,
Far in the sky,
It shook our dwarven band,
Our feet drew close,
we did repose,
'what was that awful sound?',
a sudden wind,
had made us sprint,
from fear to be spellbound,
And the bog,
from worm till frog,
held still each wriggling limb,
and the dead,
called out in dread,
and light was forced to dim,
a flying shade,
called forth to aid,
the dark lord veiled in black,
very frightened,
our faces whitened,
we did not dare look back,
the noise came near,
we thought in fear,
'did something just descend?'
but we were fast,
and found at last,
the dead men's marsh's end.
