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CHAPTER 3 Pippin very quickly forgot about Menelcar as he was caught up in the joy of the music. He played two more tunes that were popular in the Tooklands. Hands were clapping and feet were stomping, and his face was flushed with pleasure. When he finished the third tune, there were calls for a song. “What will you have?” he called, laughing. Several voices rang out “Nob o’ the Lea!” This was a perennial favorite of those who had heard Pippin sing it before. He gave a light laugh, and said “Very well, ‘Nob’ it is!” Then he threw back his head and began the jolly melody: “A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea, First breakfast he has at the rise of the sun, A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea, Second breakfast, to the kitchen again, A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea, He takes himself out for a bit of a walk, A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea, Though he’s much work to do, he has a hunch A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea, He’s ready to eat when teatime arrives, A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea, Soon supper has come and his hunger is dire, A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea, And now that he finally finds he is fed, A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea, By the time Pippin had finished the second verse, the room was clapping and stomping in time with the song, and by the time he got to the third verse, they were singing the chorus. When he got to the last two verses, all were singing along, and the chorus was repeated again. Menelcar was impressed by the way the hobbit had his audience enthralled. This Pippin had made the audience forget that a novelty like a minstrel of the Big Folk was waiting a turn. Perhaps *he* should have been the warm-up act, he thought with a rueful grin. Pippin followed this with another comic song, a complicated thing apparently to do with hobbit genealogy, as it seemed to be full of lines about “fourth cousins thrice removed” and “great-great-great-aunts”. Menelcar could not make heads nor tails of it, but the hobbits were laughing uproariously, as though they had never heard anything so hilarious. Then the mood was changed as the lad began a solemn rather melancholy song: The wind was in the withered heath, Menelcar leaned forward. This was a Dwarven tune, but the words were slightly different than what he had heard in the Lonely Mountain. He listened attentively. This might be one of the songs he had come to track down. The wind came down from mountains cold, The grasses hissed, their tassels bent, It passed the lonely Mountain bare It left the world and took its flight Pippin’s sweet voice faded away on the last mournful note, and he looked up gratefully as the innkeeper handed him a full mug. His eyes held a question as he took it. “It’s just cold water, Mr. Pippin,” muttered Dodd quietly, “but I’m thinking you’re thirsty.” “Thank you.” Pippin glanced up at the Man. He’d enjoyed singing himself, but now he was ready to sit back and listen to a *real* minstrel. Menelcar met Pippin’s eyes with a nod. Unfolding his long legs, and moving carefully, for his head barely cleared the ceiling beams, he came forward. He sat down on top of the table where Pippin had seated himself. Strumming his harp, he began… ___________________________________________________ *From The Hobbit, Chapter VII, “Queer Lodgings” |
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