a lengthy pause -- for dramatic effect, no doubt! -- the Wizard who
can't write limericks continues the conversation in the Golden Hall.
Oh ... must you sift ale through that beard?
Your manners are much more than weird!
One game you've just lost,
And your balance ... it's cost!
We can't take you nowhere; 'tis feared!
The Drinking Game ensued
Another battle in the Elf/Dwarf feud
While the Elf barely felt his drink
Beneath the table Gimli did sink
The end of the game Legolas queued!
A mop, if you please, Moderator!
A green one, now; sooner than later!
The Dwarf, it would seem,
Is now lost in a dream
While his mouth spews like a percolator!
A Rohirric mop was inserted,
To muffle the mumblings he blurted,
But still through the beard
To all those sharp-eared
Came such noises their eyes were averted!
He didn't require sleep to rest,
But he found neither, try his best!
For that dwarf's cacaphony,
Was the bane of the company,
And the elf dreamt of exiting, West.