You've used elvish in everyday conversation, and it was with someone who didn't speak a word of it. -LOTR Spoofs.net
Oh my Glorfindel, its me!

You've used elvish in everyday conversation, and it was with someone who didn't speak a word of it. -LOTR Spoofs.net
Theoden wrote:Where now are the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the harp on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the deadwood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?
Theoden wrote:Where now are the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the harp on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the deadwood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?
Howleen wrote:I just downloaded LotRO yesterday - and so far, I LOVE it. I'm an Elf, hunter, lvl 6 (n00b) and still in the starting place or what's it called. The server is Laurelin, and char's name - Larven. Just in case, if anybody would like to meet up. ;o; I hate playing alone, and that's what I'm doing right now lolol.
/offtocontinueplayinglotro
Theoden wrote:Where now are the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the harp on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the deadwood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?
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