(no subject)

[lastest_ringbearer]

 The cold hard lands, they bites our hands, they gnaws our feet! The rocks and stones are like old bones, all bare of meat! *Here he pauses: the possible options he's come up with, over the years, for continuing require that he either rhyme 'feet' with itself or use the word 'fish' for two lines in a row. Despite his (admittedly small) ambitions Smeagol is not an especially good poet, nor does he have a wide range of topics to choose from.

*Thus he's going with his usual non-solution to problems he can't deal with, which is to splash at the water while hissing and muttering to himself. Happily he's discovered swim trunks; his old clothes were a nightmare and have been relegated to the rag pile.*

Comments

Good place to end, I think? I've got a brand new guy stuck in my head, don't want to overwhelm you

[lastest_ringbearer]

Musssic, yes. Smeagol will lisssten to music.

If you like! It does feel like they've said all they're gonna say for the moment

[museicalmarty]

Heh, all right, let me try. . . [he fiddles with the guitar for a moment, then does an instrumental version of Foreigner's 'I Want To Know What Love Is.' He does like a classic 80s power ballad]