Just for fun:
Trollsataloneonhisseatofstone,
Andmunchedandmumbledabarebone;
Formanyayearhehadgnaweditnear,
Formeatwashardtocomeby.
Doneby!Gumby!
Inacaveinthehillshedweltalone,
Andmeatwashardtocomeby.
UpcameTomwithhisbigbootson.
Saidhetotroll:‘Pray,whatisyon?
Foritlooksliketheshino’mynuncleTim,
Asshouldbea-lyin’ingraveyard.
Caveyard!Paveyard!
ThismanyayearhasTimbeengone,
AndIthoughthewerelyin’ingraveyard.’
‘Mylad,’saidtroll,’thisboneIstole.
Butwhatbebonesthatlieinahole?
Thynunclewasdeadasalumpo’lead,
AforeIfoundhisshinbone.
Tinbone!Thinbone!
Hecanspareashareforapooroldtroll,
Forhedon’tneedhisshinbone.‘
SaidTom:‘Idon’tseewhythelikeso’thee
Withoutaxin’leaveshouldgomakin’free
Withtheshankortheshino’myfather’skin;
Sohandtheoldboneover!
Rover!Trover!
Thoughdeadhebe,itbelongstohe;
Sohandtheoldboneover!’
‘Foracoupleo’pins,’saysTroll,andgrins,
‘I’lleattheetoo,andgnawtheshins.
Abito’freshmeatwillgodownsweat!
I’lltrymyteethontheenow.
Heenow!Seenow!
I’mtiredo’gnawingoldbonesandshins;
I’veamindtodineontheenow.’
Butjustashethoughthisdinnerwascaught,
Hefoundhishandshadholdofnaught.
Beforehecouldmind,Tomslippedbehind
Andgavehimtheboottolarnhim.
Warnhim!Darnhim!
Abumpo’thebootontheseat,Tomthought,
Wouldbethewaytolarnhim.
Butharderthanstoneisthefleshandbone
Ofatrollthatsitsinthehillsalone.
Aswellsetyouboottothemountain’sroot,
Fortheseatofatrolldon’tfeelit.
Peelit!Heelit!
OldTrolllaughed,whenheheardTomgroan,
Andheknewhistoeswouldfeelit.
Tom’slegisgamesincehomehecame,
Andhisbootlessfootislastinglame;
ButTrolldon’tcare,he’sstillthere
Withthebonehebonedfromitsowner.
Doner!Boner!
Troll’soldseatisstillthesame,
Andthebonehebonedfromitsowner!
This is one of my favourite bits:
‘You have not seen, so I forgive your jest,’ said Gimli. ‘But you speak like a fool. Do you think those halls are fair where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood, and dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkels into pools, as fair Kheled-zâram in the starlight.
‘And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles,, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities, such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains’ heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm’s Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.’
‘Then I wish you this fortune and comfort, Gimli,’ said the Elf, ‘that you may come safe from war and return to see them again. But do not tell all your kindred! There seems little left for them to do, from your account. Maybe the men of this land are wise to say little: one family of busy dwarves with hammer and chisel might mar more than they made.’
‘No, you do not understand,’ said Gimli. ‘No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin’s race would mine those caves for stones or or, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap–a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day–so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps as once shone in Khaza-Dûm; and when we wished we should drive away the night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired rest, we would let the night return.’
–Gimly, Son of Gloin, Legolas of Mirkwood
The Lord of The Rings, The Two Towers