The day was bright, the grass was green, 

No cloud had yet the blue sky seen, 

And in the calm of afternoon 

A hobbit walked, dark-haired and thin. 

His thoughts were far, across the hill, 

Where pines stand round the Overhill - 

They said there was a little hole, 

Where lived a girl whose pies could heal. 

They said that wounded, sick and ill

Came there with hope to Overhill

And when they tasted spoken pies

Their pain would go. A magic meal!

The hobbit heard of those who took

One bite and healed. He wished to look

For her who crafted magic pies,

Because he was himself a cook.

From Michel Delving to Waymeet

Then Hobbiton, he walked by feet

For three long days with stops to sleep

And only thirteen times to eat!

At last he came, he found the way

Just by the end of the fifth day,

He saw her – beautiful and light,

He stared and had no words to say.

She fed him well, he fell in love,

Her pies were crispy from above

Inside there was a juicy meat

Of rabbit or, perhaps, a dove.

From then they lived a happy life,

He asked her to become his wife,

They always cooked her magic pies

And even learned to play the fife.

The end.

Master Volko Fastbite won first prize in the Harnkegger games'  Poetry and Story Contest 2015 with the above poem.  Master Volko adds, that the poem is almost autobiographical.