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Kittens in a Suitcase by SparklinBurgndy Kittens in a Suitcase :iconsparklinburgndy:SparklinBurgndy 10 3
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The Winter of Discontent - 5 :iconsparklinburgndy:SparklinBurgndy 1 1
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The Winter of Discontent - 4
It felt odd, walking into town the next morning. Dwalin had begun to push Blackberry’s cart for her when they went into Hobbiton for work. He wondered if they should purchase a goat or donkey to pull it. It would be more difficult for her to walk that far as her pregnancy progressed and in the spring, when his child would come, they’d have to deal with the babe as well. Dwalin’s chest inflated at the very thought.
But today the walk felt odd because not only was Blackberry walking beside him, but Lily Heathertoes as well. It almost felt as if Blackberry’s mother had come to stay with them. They had stayed up long into the night, cooking and chatting (Dwalin had to translate) and tending their hair. Lily even helped Blackberry lay down a brandy to celebrate her conception. A dwarrow home’s fortune was often gauged by how many females resided in it and Dwalin felt as though his luck had doubled. Dwarrow were perhaps the only race that wished for their mother
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The Winter of Discontent - 3 :iconsparklinburgndy:SparklinBurgndy 1 1
Parade Day by SparklinBurgndy Parade Day :iconsparklinburgndy:SparklinBurgndy 3 1 Miss Hissy by SparklinBurgndy Miss Hissy :iconsparklinburgndy:SparklinBurgndy 7 5
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Finfolk IV
The storm screamed around the wounded ship, ramming her against the rocks again and again.  The hull of the Nimbus finally stove in, sending men scrambling into the water in a desperate effort not to be dragged down with it.  In the cabins of the officers, young Lieutenant Claiborne was hurled about like a ragdoll.  The captain sent him to retrieve the charts so that they could abandon ship with the slightest idea where they were.  Unfortunately, the actions of the wind and waves drove the ship onto a reef, where it was battered relentlessly.  Julian was thrown against the wall, cracking his head sharply.  The precious charts scattered around him like fallen leaves.
The young officer woke with a start at the feel of water against his hand.  He could feel pressure.  The cabin seemed strangely still.  Julian looked down and discovered a wall of water where the forward cabins had been.  He shook his abused head. The Nimbus had broke
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Kittens in a Suitcase
One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just isn't the same. . . For those of you wondering what I'm talking about, Onyx found a ball of tortoiseshell colored yarn and carried it into the kitchen and stuffed it into the nest with the kittens. If she's doing this now, I'm not sure how she's going to handle empty nest syndrome. 
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Mature Content

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“Oi! Bifur! What’s th’ name a’ that whore you visit?!”

Bifur didn’t bat an eye at the question, but Bilba nearly swallowed her tongue. She was helping Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur set up a toy stall in the market. Even Blackberry rocked back on her heels for a moment.

Bifur signed a few things, but Blackberry didn’t catch anything more than ‘hair’ and ‘tall’.

“I think she’s in th’ dock,” Dwalin announced. “I saw th’ Lawkeepers bringing in a lass that matches th’ description.”

Bifur signed again.

“Oh, I know that one! You asked why!” Blackberry said triumphantly.

“Probably for . . . . whoring,” Bilba whispered. “And this is a toy stall; there are faunts about!”

“Whoring’s not illegal,” Dwalin scoffed. At Bilba’s look, he started. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Why?!” Bofur blurted.

“Because!”

“Next you’ll tell us a woman can only have one husband,” Bombur chortled.

Both hobbitesses gave the round dwarf a startled look.

“Well, you can’t,” Bofur corrected, gesturing to Bilba. “But that’s what you get for marrying a king. You could, though.”

“If I had a second one trying to mount me morning, noon, and night, I wouldn’t have time to eat,” Blackberry said dismissively.

Dwalin looked proud of himself and kissed her on top of the head.

“Faunts!” Bilba squealed, looking around for them.

“Are dwarrow men allowed more than one wife?” Blackberry asked.

“No,” Bombur said. “There aren’t enough dams around for that.”

“So if dams are in short supply, why do some still resort to whoring?”

“All hobbit whores are female?” Bofur asked in the same moment Dwalin spoke

“Whoring is an art form!”

“Fascinating conversation! But you can’t have it here!” Bilba said firmly pushing Blackberry up the path. There were some faunts running towards the stall.

“The more I hear of it, the better Ered Luin sounds!” Blackberry laughed.

Bilba stopped pushing.

“You’re – you’re going to Ered Luin?” She said. “But – it wasn’t because of what I said, was it? I’m so sorry!”

“I thought you said you couldn’t take a hobbitess to Ered Luin,” Bofur protested, still within earshot.

“Nikk and Lily are going back, after what happened to him,” Dwalin answered. “And Lily’s taken such a shine to Blackberry they’re going to adopt her. Me showing up out of the blue with a hobbitess on my arm would arouse suspicion. A hobbitess whose ‘Mam’ married a dwarf and found one to marry herself is a different matter.”

“But . . . you’re a hobbit,” Bilba said in a small voice. “You belong in the Shire.”

If Blackberry were a cat, her ears would have flattened.

“No, Mistress Baggins, I don’t. You are the rich landowner directly descended from Hobbiton’s founders. I am just a simple craftswoman who has been treated as an outsider my entire life! And now I’m wed to a dwarf and expecting a half-dwarf child! It isn’t going to get any better! And what of my child?! I’m actually a hobbit! How will they be treated?!”

“Ered Luin, then!” Dwalin declared. “We’ll go as soon as Nikk and Lily do; before you get too big to travel!”

Blackberry shot a glance at her husband as thought she’d forgotten he was there.

“I could take cuttings,” she murmured thoughtfully. “It would be three years before we had grapes again. Another year for aging . . .”

“Berry, I’m Captain of the Guard over all of Ered Luin. I know winemaking is your craft, but you don’t have to worry about making a living, luv.”

Blackberry took in a deep breath. She looked over Dwalin and then glanced at the other dwarrow. She looked to Bilba, who was looking upset. The tiny winemaker cast a slow look around Hobbiton, culminating in a long look at the looming shadows of the Blue Mountains.

“Yes,” she decided. “We’ll go to Ered Luin.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Echinacea Hedgehopper stepped into the Lawkeeper’s station with a basket on her arm. Her father, Moro Hedgehopper, was sitting dejectedly at his desk, staring at a small sliver of paper.

“What’s the matter, Papa?” she asked, setting the lunch basket on his desk.

“Nothing, my dear,” he sighed. “Just studying the Proudfoot case.”

Moro may have had his eyes on the sliver of paper, but he couldn’t have missed the flinch his youngest daughter gave.

“Why do you care?” She asked, looking away. “Proudfoot was a disgusting, awful creep!”

“Justilo Proudfoot?”

Echinacea turned to look at the one occupied cell. A tall, dark haired hobbitess looked back at her. Echinacea didn’t know the woman, or what she was under arrest for, but she thought the Lawkeepers ought to have allowed her to get dressed before they brought her in.

“Dicentra, don’t you speak to my little lass!” Moro snapped, leaping to his feet. “She doesn’t need to hear a word from your vile mouth!”

“Proudfoot’s dead then?” Dicentra continued.

“Yes,” Echinacea squeaked.

“Echinacea! Don’t speak to her!”

There was long silence for a moment. Dicentra’s dark eyes raked over the hobbit girl. Echinacea felt like all of her secrets were glass under such a stare. Then Dicentra’s lips curved into a smile.

“Good,” she purred. “He’ll never darken my doorstep again.”

“You had dealings with him?” Moro said sharply.

“He came to my smial four days past demanding succor.”

“And you . . . dealt with him?”

“Believe or not, Captain, even whores have standards.”

Echinacea felt her cheeks flush crimson. Now she knew why she’d never clapped eyes on this hobbitess before; her father was a well respected Lawkeeper of impressive rank in Hobbiton. A whore . . . well, she must have only chosen such work because she was starving!

“Luckily, some of my sweet dwarvish lads were about and they chucked him in the gutter where he belonged.”

Moro was silent. Justilo had made his way to the nearest whore and got tossed out on his ear. It was well known that Dicentra Heartleaf took dwarves as clients, living right on the edge of the Shire. The Lawkeepers mostly ignored her until the local hobbits complained enough. Lately the complaints leaned towards she was charging too much and blacklisted any lad who got rough. So Goodwill rubbed his face, sighed heavily, and decided since they were out at Michel Delving anyway, they might as well pick her up and ‘give her a few days’ rest.’

All that aside, four days past was the day before Proudfoots’ murder. Perhaps Dicentra’s dwarvish lads had . . . well, no, even if they had thrashed him hard enough to kill, they wouldn’t have bothered to drag him all the way back to Hobbiton just to jump the body. The Blue Mountains were closer and had plenty of gorges where the corpse would never be found. Plus Justilo had been alive the morning of his murder; he’d even signed in! Which again raised the question of why a page had been removed from the sign-in book. Cmmdr Bilberry had even signed it off, but said nothing and had constables out searching before the first bell . . .

“Dicentra Heartleaf, at your service,” the tall hobbitess offered in what was not quite a purr.

“Oh! Um, Echinacea Hedgehopper, at yours!” the lass squeaked, bobbing a curtsy.

“Got a trade, lass?”

“I . . . I’m apprenticing at the bakery; just a few days a week.”

“That’s good. It’s good for a woman to have a trade.”

“Please stop talking to my daughter!” Moro snapped, finally wrenching himself out of his thoughts.

“Bloody hell, Moro, you missed it at the Thain’s office! That Heathertoes woman all but shredded her brother with her nails!” Cmmdr Bilberry came through the door, chortling.

“Uncle Goodwill!” Echinacea gave the commander a hug, which he happily returned, looking more relaxed than he had in days.

“Ah, Dicentra . . . glad to have you back again.”

“I’m not speaking to you, Bilberry. Your timing is very unfortunate.”

“Oh, sorry we didn’t time it with your monthly break, dear.”

“I’m serious, Goodwill. I’m going to miss my favorite client locked up in here.”

“Oh yes? Let’s see the book.”

Echinacea watched as Dicentra passed a large, leather bound black book through the bars. She had known the commander since she was a tiny faunt. Goodwill was very particular about the company he kept. If you could be counted among his friends, it was a guarantee that your character was impeccable. Not respectable, exactly, but a good person. And here he was bantering with a whore. Goodwill paced back to his desk, flipping through the ledger.

“Lot of dwarven names here,” he observed.

“Dwarves are respectful and they pay more.”

“’Lord Heen, son of Moreen?’ Nobility! You’re going places, duckie.”

“That’s hardly a thing to mock.”

“You’ve drawn a little heart next to his name!”

To Echinacea’s surprise, Dicentra looked embarrassed. Goodwill looked a tad surprised by this, but shrugged.

“All right, I shan’t continue. Any more for the black list?”

“There’s a few.”

“What’s the black list?” Echinacea asked.

“When lads are rough or violent, they’ll often try it on harlots before respectable women,” Goodwill answered, copying some names down. “It’s a good indicator.”

“That’s not the sort of thing I’d like my daughter to know about, Commander!” Moro shrilled.

“Oh, please, luv; at her age I’m sure she’s no stranger to the beasts men can be.”

There was an edge to Dicentra’s words. Like she knew far more than she should. Echinacea blushed. Bilberry paused in his copying to exchange a look with the dark haired hobbitess.

“Speaking of which, the Shire has yet to reimburse me for the time I spent at the work farm.”

Bilberry sighed roughly.

“That’s why you don’t go to trial anymore, dear. You don’t do any harm. We just tuck you away for a week or two to keep the imbeciles happy.”

Both father and daughter Hedgehopper slowly frowned at the implication of such a statement. You didn’t get reimbursed on the work farm unless you were called up to ply a skilled trade. And Dicentra’s trade . . . .

“Ah . . . Commander?” Erling Bellwether stepped through the door, allowing a shaggy figure to follow him.

Bifur, knowing full well there was no one present who could speak Kudzul, signed as he spoke. He still received a lot of blank stares.

“Dicentra? You have a lot of dwarf clients, do you know . . . ?”

“Bifur!”

The dwarf turned towards the squeal and went to the hobbitess.

“Now don’t be upset, it’s not as bad as all that,” she said in a soothing tone. “Just a little misunderstanding.”

The commander and I have an understanding, she signed. Occasionally he has to bring me in as a show, but it doesn’t go to trial. I’ll be out in a week or so.

There’s a small group heading back to Ered Luin around then,
Bifur offered. Two of them are hobbitesses who married dwarrow. If you wish I could join them and bring you back as well.

There will be hobbits in Ered Luin? Married to dwarves?

Yes, if you . . . if you would wish . . .

If you see Lord Heen on the road, could you tell him I’m very sorry I missed him?


There was a pause and Bifur’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

Yes. I will pass on the message.
It felt odd, walking into town the next morning. Dwalin had begun to push Blackberry’s cart for her when they went into Hobbiton for work. He wondered if they should purchase a goat or donkey to pull it. It would be more difficult for her to walk that far as her pregnancy progressed and in the spring, when his child would come, they’d have to deal with the babe as well. Dwalin’s chest inflated at the very thought.

But today the walk felt odd because not only was Blackberry walking beside him, but Lily Heathertoes as well. It almost felt as if Blackberry’s mother had come to stay with them. They had stayed up long into the night, cooking and chatting (Dwalin had to translate) and tending their hair. Lily even helped Blackberry lay down a brandy to celebrate her conception. A dwarrow home’s fortune was often gauged by how many females resided in it and Dwalin felt as though his luck had doubled. Dwarrow were perhaps the only race that wished for their mother-in-laws to come live with them.

“Dwalin, what are you thinking?” Blackberry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was only thinking of how much sweet wine I could pour down you to get a daughter,” he teased, putting the cart down to sign his answers. Both hobbitesses giggled at the declaration.

“You really don’t want a boy?” Blackberry asked. She had retained enough signs overnight to say ‘Boy, want?’

“Sweet Berry, all I truly want is a child born healthy and whole,” he admitted. “Dwarves stress wanting a daughter to bless our house, but I think you could give birth to a chicken and I would love it.”

Lily and Blackberry burst into hysterical laughter.

‘A chicken!?’ Lily signed.

“I’m not likely to birth a chicken,” Blackberry giggled. “But hobbits stress wanting a son born first to inherit their house. Do you want that? I don’t mind.”

“Dwarrow will let a woman inherit property without issue,” Dwalin said. “Again, healthy child is all I wish for.”

Blackberry beamed at him and cuddled his arm closely. The bald dwarf cast a look at Lily, who was looking a bit wistful at the affection.

“Are you missing your lad or wanting to adopt Blackberry?” he teased.

‘Ah . . . both?!’

“Ah – Berry, Lily wants to be your mam,” Dwalin reported.

Blackberry set her eyes on the older hobbitess for a long, long moment.

“Tell her she can’t have done a worse job than the last one. I agree.”

Hmm. That was certainly a statement. Lily seemed to agree when he relayed the message to her, but came around to hug Blackberry. Dwalin was about to question his bride on her turn of phrase, but Lily let out a wordless shriek of joy that raised the neck hair on everyone in earshot and set several dogs howling.

Nikk, son of Vrikk, had just dismounted a pony in the town square. At Lilly’s shriek of delight, he looked around and bolted towards her, arms outstretched. The Hobbiton constables looked on as he caught his wife up and held her close.

“I suppose we’d better go meet your new Da’,” Dwalin joked.

Blackberry glanced at him sharply, then frowned when she realized that yes, if Lily was her new ‘mother’, her husband would be her new ‘father’.

“Hey,” Dwalin cupped his suddenly solemn bride’s chin in his hands. “What’s up with yeh, luv?”

“Not here,” Blackberry protested. “We can talk about it tonight.”

“All right, then.”

They didn’t have to trouble themselves walking over because Lily was dragging Nikk in their direction, happily signing away. The older dwarf had his arm latched around Lily’s waist as if he was afraid she would disappear.

“I am Nikk, at your service,” he said, bowing. “Lily tells me she’s adopted you, lass, and we’re soon to be grandparents!”

“Blackberry Brandywine, at yours,” the hobbitess said, curtseying. “We’re a bit short in the grandparent department and could use help.”

“Dwalin, son of Fundin, at your service. I’ve got a brother, but that’s about it.”

Nikk peered at the scarred warrior.

“’Ere, I know you. You’re Captain of the Guard at Ered Luin.”

Before Dwalin could do more than nod, Nikk continued.

“When are you going back? This is no place to raise a pebble.”

“We’re . . . staying here,” Dwalin answered, shooting a look at his wife. “Blackberry has a vineyard.”

They imprisoned Nikk for four months because he was a dwarf,’ Lily offered. ‘You can’t be thinking of raising a half-dwarf child here.’

After Dwalin translated for Blackberry, the tiny winemaker looked thoughtful.

“Really?”

“Dori said no dwarf would dare raise a hand to me if they knew I was with child. It sounds like dwarrow treat their women a lot better than hobbits do.”

And he wouldn’t be stuck in this boring town where everyone hated him for his race! He’d actually get to swing his axes again! And ‘no one would raise a hand to her’? If Blackberry could produce children at the rate hobbits normally did, she’d be treated as a queen! As for her unhobbitish decision to marry a dwarf, well, wasn’t her own adopted da a dwarf? Nikk and Lily had lived in Michel Delving; they could just say they met there!

“Nikk! Come on, mate, Thain wants to see you!” Sgt Sandheaver called.

Nikk and Lily turned and began to walk back towards the Thain’s office. Dwalin looked over to see another group of Lawkeepers bringing a strange hobbitess into the dock. She was tall, with long black tumbling loose down her back. She was wearing a lot less clothing than the average hobbitess would, especially in winter. She was clutching a large, black leatherbound book to her chest. She looked over at Dwalin briefly.

“Do you know her?” Blackberry asked.

“No,” he admitted. “But I think Bifur might.”

Mature Content

This content is intended for mature audiences.

The Lawkeepers from Hobbiton rode into Michel Delving to a flurry of activity. Hobbits were gathered around the Lawkeepers’ station, holding lanterns and the leashes of hunting hounds.

“What’s going on?”

“Captain! Did you come to join the search?”

The hobbit addressing him clearly didn’t recognize his rank, but Commander Bilberry ignored this.

“Who’s missing?”

“A deaf mute named Lily Heathertoes!”

“Lily Heathertoes is perfectly safe. She’s in Hobbiton, staying as a guest of the Thain.”

“They found her? Oi! They found her!”

The cry was taken up by the crowd. The Hobbiton Lawkeepers dismounted and led their ponies forward. They arrived at the hitching rail just as the local Captain came hustling out of door.

“They found her?! Is she still alive?!” He looked over the group from Hobbiton quickly. Seeing no sign of Lily, he took a longer look at the group. His eyes fell on Bilberry’s pips. “Commander!” the captain saluted.

“Commander Goodwill Bilberry,” he said, returning the salute. “This is Lt. Bellwether, Sgt. Sandheaver, and Cst.s Truance and Gardener. And you are?”

“Captain Darjon Heathertoes. You say you’ve found Lily? Is she alive?”

“’Heathertoes’? Is she a relation?” Lt. Bellwether asked.

“My sister. I’m assuming the news is ill, if the Commander of the Shire has come all this way to deliver it.”

Bellwether and Bilberry exchanged a long look. A look that said ‘Sister?’

“You assume wrong,” Sgt. Sandheaver offered. “Mistress Heathertoes is in Hobbiton, a guest of the Thain.”

“Is – is she? That’s good. How did she get all the way to Hobbiton?”

The constables exchanged a look now.

“You know,” Sgt Sandheaver began. “If I thought me sister was frozen to death and then found out she wasn’t, I’d be a bit more relieved.”

“First off,” Cmdr Bilberry cut in, “Do you have a dwarf by the name of Nikk, son of Vrikk in your cells?”

There was a long moment of hesitation. The crowd gathered only saw Cmdr Bilberry and Cpt Heathertoes stare at each other. In truth, Heathertoes was wondering if there was any chance he could claim otherwise. But he got the feeling there wasn’t. The Commander of the Shire would likely cotton on to any attempt to signal to his own hobbits to hide the dwarf. And the look in Cmdr Bilberry’s eyes confirmed this.

“ . . . yes. Farthest cell back.”

“Sandheaver, Truance, Gardener, go and fetch him. So tell me, Captain, what exactly is the dwarf’s crime?”

“Rape.”

“Of whom?”

“Lily Heathertoes.”

There was a confused murmur. Bellwether caught one clear ‘But that’s his wife’. Evidently the victim of the so-called crime hadn’t been made public.

“I believe they’re married,” Cmdr Bilberry said calmly. “A man can’t ravish his own wife. She agreed to give him the privilege when they wed.”

“They aren’t properly married,” Cpt Heathertoes said sharply. “He took her across the Downs to the Grey Havens for an anvil wedding. I never gave consent!”

“Pretty sure you aren’t the one who has to do that,” Lt. Bellwether said. “Blessing, sure, but not consent.”

“Lily is a deaf mute! She can’t speak! If she can’t communicate—“

“She can read and write,” Lt. Bellwether offered.

“And she knows that dwarvish handspeech,” Bilberry said, gesturing in a manner he imagined was similar. “I’ve sat through a distressingly graphic speech to know what Mistress Heathertoes likes and exactly how she likes it.”

“If a hobbit cannot communicate, then they are not capable of giving consent in legal matters!”

“She can read and write,” Lt. Bellwether repeated.

“She’s hardly mute, as well. I understand it was her vocal performance that got them into trouble in the first place.”

Darjon blushed hotly. He was saved from further protest by Nikk, son of Vrikk coming through the door. The Hobbiton Lawkeepers barely managed to stay close enough to keep up the illusion that they were escorting him.

“My Lily! Is my Lily all right?! I heard them organizing a search!”

Nikk was a genial, round, dwarf with a full white beard of natural curls. He looked naked without a laughing grandchild on his knee.

“The last I saw Mistress Heathertoes, she had food in both hands and a dozen dwarves around her, chatting amiably,” Cmdr. Bilberry assured him.

Nikk sagged in relief.

“Lily can’t ‘chat’! She can’t speak!!” Darjon all but roared.

“Listen, mate, do you know how loud it gets in mines?! Sometimes if you want to speak, signing is all you have!” Nikk snapped. “Not being able to hear doesn’t mean you can’t think!”

“You stole my sister, you fucking lawn ornament! She was satisfied to remain in my care until she met you!”

“You got to keep her money, Darjon!” Someone yelled from the crowd.

“That’s not the point!”

“What’s this?” Sandheaver asked with interest.

“Their father left a trust to care for Lily. In the unlikely event that she married, the trust was supposed to go to her husband, but Darjon all but kept Lily locked in the cellar –“

“I DID NOT LOCK MY SISTER IN THE CELLAR!”

“ – at any rate, he kept her to herself until she met Nikk and he taught her that signing stuff and after that it was a whirlwind romance.”

“Darjon refused to hand over the money but Lily moved out anyway.”

“It wasn’t about the money!”

“Lily is my One; I was honored to wed her without a penny to her name!”

Commander Bilberry waved his hand between the two.

“Lads, break it up. We’re to bring the both of you to Hobbiton in the morning to explain yourself to the Thain.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“That’s Itogol Trapline. He’s a farthing; one quarter dwarf on his father’s side.” Lotus, the fabric seller said, pointing.

Itogol did not look much different than the other Stoors, except for perhaps having a thicker beard than most. The lad, who looked fifteen minutes older than Fili, was tuning a guitar on a bit of board meant to act as a stage. Sitting beside him was a young dwarf holding a mandolin.

“And that’s Rist, son of Wist. He’s actually a harn. One quarter hobbit on his grandmother’s side.”

Thorin turned to look at Lotus.

“This is a very common thing in the Stoor lands?”

“Well, y’know, when the dragon came, there were a lot of broken families fleeing the mountain. Dwarf men snapped up whatever hobbitesses they could to help care for children. And good Stoorish fishwives could provide for whole families if their new husbands had lost a leg or whathaveyou.”

“It didn’t frighten them?” Nori teased.

Lotus gave him a dark look.

“Life on the waters is harder than you think, carrot top.”

While the other dwarrow teased Nori about his new nickname, Itogol and Rist finished tuning their instruments. They picked up the same melody.

One smoky day in a darkened scullery
Down by the river in a fishing town,
Where bad things happen and the walls are drippin’
And the ghosts are flittin’ through the cold hard ground
A pot and kettle on the hob were settled,
A-hissing their patter so bilious cruel.
An awfy matter of clout and clatter
And battlin’ wits in a hideous duel.


Itogol started the song, his Stoorish accent almost indecipherable from Bofur’s Blue Mountain brogue. Rist joined him on the chorus.

The lids are rattlin’, belchin’ steam!
Life ain’t nothing but a fever dream!
‘You’re a lowly villain!’
‘And you’re a terrible liar!’
But we’re both here cookin’ on the same ol’ fire!
Guts are bubbling, belching steam!
Life ain’t nothing but a fever dream!
‘You’re a chanty pot!’
‘And you’re a shite for brains!’
But we’re both here hangin’ on the same ol’ chains!

‘I’ve roasted a wealth of exotic things,
All torn to ribbons at th’ hands of kings.
Polished copper, how proudly shone,
Stealing the fire a’ the blazing sun.’

‘You’ve boil’d th’ blood from them old soup bones
I’ve boil’d th’ tea for them stately homes.
I’d rattle like a drum each Hogmanay
And scrubbed t’ th’ devil on th’ followin’ day.'
"

The pair traded off singing, Itogol playing the 'pot' and Rist the 'kettle' only to join up for the chorus.

"The lids are rattlin’, belchin’ steam!
Life ain’t nothing but a fever dream!
‘You’re a lowly villain!’
‘And you’re a terrible liar!’
But we’re both here cookin’ on the same ol’ fire!
Guts are bubbling, belching steam!
Life ain’t nothing but a fever dream!
‘You’re a chanty pot!’
‘And you’re a shite for brains!’
But we’re both here hangin’ on the same ol’ chains!

‘Oh kettle, your metal is a terrible hue!
Riddled wi’ holes, cannea hold your brew!
Your lid’s all crooked an’ your sides bashed in
It’ll no be longer til you see th’ bin.’

‘Pot, you’re not so bright as me!
A hag’s old cauldron is all you’ll be
You reek o’ gruel an’ you’re none too young
Fit for to carry but th’ peels an’ dung!’

The lids are rattlin’, belchin’ steam!
Life ain’t nothing but a fever dream!
‘You’re a lowly villain!’
‘And you’re a terrible liar!’
But we’re both here cookin’ on the same ol’ fire!
Guts are bubbling, belching steam!
Life ain’t nothing but a fever dream!
‘You’re an old piss bucket!’
‘And you’re a dented can!’
But we’re neither as black as that roastin’ pan!

Lids are rattlin' belchin' steam
Life ain't nothin but a fevered dream
'You're a lowly villain' / 'But we're neither as black'
'You're a terrible liar'
'But we're both here cookin' on the same old fire' / 'But we're neither as black as that roasting pan.'
Guts are bubbling, belching steam
Life ain't nothing but a fever dream
'You're a chanty pot' / 'But we're neither as black'
'And you're a shite for brains'
'But we're both here hangin' on the same old chains' / 'But we're neither as black as that roasting pan.'

The lids are rattlin’, belchin’ steam!
Life ain’t nothing but a fever dream!
‘You’re a lowly villain!’
‘And you’re a terrible liar!’
But we’re both here cookin’ on the same ol’ fire!
Guts are bubbling, belching steam!
Life ain’t nothing but a fever dream!
‘You’re a chanty pot!’
‘And you’re a shite for brains!’
But we’re both here hangin’ on the same ol’ chains!


“Oh, I’m goin’ t’ have to remember that one!” Bofur stated in delight.
I haven't been on here much. I have been busy with other stuff that will hopefully culminate in a wonderful new opportunity.  But to keep this place from being totally vacant, 

:icondarkling28: has asked who would make a good voice actor for Phooka?

Throw out your suggestions!
  • Listening to: Word Crimes - Weird Al
  • Reading: Beyond the Woods
  • Watching: Horns
  • Playing: With my pets
  • Eating: Pizza
  • Drinking: Redd's Wicked Watermelon
I haven't been on here much. I have been busy with other stuff that will hopefully culminate in a wonderful new opportunity.  But to keep this place from being totally vacant, 

:icondarkling28: has asked who would make a good voice actor for Phooka?

Throw out your suggestions!
  • Listening to: Word Crimes - Weird Al
  • Reading: Beyond the Woods
  • Watching: Horns
  • Playing: With my pets
  • Eating: Pizza
  • Drinking: Redd's Wicked Watermelon

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:icontribble-industries:
Tribble-Industries Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday, sorry about the clone trooper birthday cake, the fangirls hijacked it. 
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:iconsparklinburgndy:
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks!  It's fine! XD
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:icontribble-industries:
Tribble-Industries Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Your welcome,

One question what is your favorite color?
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:iconsparklinburgndy:
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Green or purple.
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:iconlonewolfd:
LonewolfD Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2019
Happy Birthday to you.
I hope you have a wonderful day
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:iconsparklinburgndy:
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you, I did!
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:iconmensjedezeemeermin:
MensjeDeZeemeermin Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2019
Today is a special day worthy of celebration--because you are a special person worthy of celebration, and it is your birthday.  You in all the universe are a unique product of unique experience that have shaped a unique and compelling perspective. You merit interest and attention; you merit praise.  Your presence in this shared reality makes that reality a better place.  For that, and your brave and generous sharing of the products of your experiences and creativity, I pause to note that I rejoice in you, and wish you a truly HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
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:iconsparklinburgndy:
SparklinBurgndy Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
You always give the best birthday wishes!
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:iconmensjedezeemeermin:
MensjeDeZeemeermin Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2019
I so hope you had a lovely birthday.
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:iconal-818:
AL-818 Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2019  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy Bday!
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