In the 'Best Poetry, Long Form' Category
In the 'Best Story Focusing on Hobbits' Category
In an Inn.
Aye, the Four Travellers! Saw them return, I did!
The Captains tall and laughin’ bold
On ponies, in mail and elf-cloaks
back again, safe and sound!
Oh, one had his wound, but all the same
They did look fine!
I wonder where he went?
That Mr Baggins, odd and quiet fellow.
Something drained the stars out of his eyes, it seemed
Though we’d all had a hard year of it.
But Mr Merry, the Magnificent, he is,
Slew those ruffians left and right
Battle of Bywater – arrers and swords
And one old man’s curse – ah, we showed him.
That silver dwarf-mail can keep anything out.
And what a year we had of it next.
Malt better than gold!
And the stuff Sam used with the trees - dust like di’monds!
The quiet one just wrapped hisself in his papers they say,
as if they was bandages.
Yes, there was four all told. I don’t know
Where he went, lad. T’was long ago.
I saw Sam cryin’ into his beer one time
Talkin’ of hurts he couldn’t heal
Never saw a grown hobbit sob like that
And the Captains that distressed.
Course he’s Mayor now
Raised a fine fam’ly at Bag End.
The quiet one? He’ll come back.
They all did, when we’d given ‘em up for dead.
And the King’s returned, and all. You mark my words.
He’ll come back. Laden with gold like his uncle!
And the three’ll be Four again. You mark my words.
I’ll wager he was stronger than he looked.