The clouds were thick over the Thicket,
I was in the Vale, showing my stick to Meeka Diggs
When I got the message from Wubblefarven, the Mayor's Chief Guy.
The message that would claim the lives of four innocent young hobbits,
and forever change my life.
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We met in the Fool's Gold, and Wubble was fast
to give me my pre-contract beverage
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With my thirst quenched... barely, I turned to Wubble
"What's the word?" I asked. Already, I could feel my toes curling
He was fidgety... something was definitely wrong.
Usually he complained when I asked for twenty bottles.
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I am writing this not in a search for fame
But as a warning to all who go after me:
Do not investigate the horrors of Runnyeye!
This is a cautionary tale,
not meant for the faint of heart.
For even recalling those hours of terrors sends beads of sweat like permafrost ice
jittering down my spine...