Many will tell of the loveliness of Elves And still more will sing of the fine human form but where is song or sign that augurs all that is beautiful about Ogres? Ugh. Maybe mother is right. Poetry is silly. It's for High Elves in their mansions who have nothing better to do, who couldn't hunt their dinner if you put a roast chicken on the floor and told them to stab it with a spear. Beautiful ogres? What was I thinking? I suppose they do move in a kind of slow, majestic, stately way. But they smell awful, and they're a nuisance. It's like mother says, "If you want to impress me, try killing an ogre, not immortalizing it in verse." Well, she can have it her way, then. I'm off to kill an ogre.And then when I'm done, maybe I'll write a poem about it:
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| - Many will tell of the loveliness of Elves And still more will sing of the fine human form but where is song or sign that augurs all that is beautiful about Ogres? Ugh. Maybe mother is right. Poetry is silly. It's for High Elves in their mansions who have nothing better to do, who couldn't hunt their dinner if you put a roast chicken on the floor and told them to stab it with a spear. Beautiful ogres? What was I thinking? I suppose they do move in a kind of slow, majestic, stately way. But they smell awful, and they're a nuisance. It's like mother says, "If you want to impress me, try killing an ogre, not immortalizing it in verse." Well, she can have it her way, then. I'm off to kill an ogre.And then when I'm done, maybe I'll write a poem about it:
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| - Many will tell of the loveliness of Elves And still more will sing of the fine human form but where is song or sign that augurs all that is beautiful about Ogres? Ugh. Maybe mother is right. Poetry is silly. It's for High Elves in their mansions who have nothing better to do, who couldn't hunt their dinner if you put a roast chicken on the floor and told them to stab it with a spear. Beautiful ogres? What was I thinking? I suppose they do move in a kind of slow, majestic, stately way. But they smell awful, and they're a nuisance. It's like mother says, "If you want to impress me, try killing an ogre, not immortalizing it in verse." Well, she can have it her way, then. I'm off to kill an ogre.And then when I'm done, maybe I'll write a poem about it: Bravely the Elf stood strong Against the club and thong Landing strikes on stinking flesh Duelling the giant to giant death. No, still not right
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