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The Bastard of Bagshot Row [entries|friends|calendar]
Bingo Bolger-Baggins, Esqre

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Birthday Day!!!! [22 Sep 2016|09:25pm]
 It's my birthday!  Huzzah for me!!!  And a very happy birthday to Uncle Bilbo and brother Frodo!!!  We happy Bagginses!!!



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Yum, I suppose.  It looks like it is, anyway.
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Voice Post [29 Oct 2015|09:22pm]
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Happy Birthday to us! [22 Sep 2014|08:42pm]
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It's a birthday of mine and minuncle's! I don't know which one, but any will do, I suppose. Cake all 'round!
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Voice Post [27 May 2013|10:21pm]
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Eomer and Aragorn leant wearily on their swords. Away on the left the crash and clamour of the battle on the Rock rose loud again. But the Hornburg still held fast, like an island in the sea. Its gates lay in ruin; but over the barricade of beams and stones within no enemy as yet had passed.
Aragorn looked at the pale stars, and at the moon, now sloping behind the western hills that enclosed the valley. 'This is a night as long as years,' he said. 'How long will the day tarry?'
'Dawn is not far off,' said Gamling, who had now climbed up beside him. 'But dawn will not help us, I fear.'
'Yet dawn is ever the hope of men,' said Aragorn.
'But these creatures of Isengard, these half-orcs and goblin-men that the foul craft of Saruman has bred, they will not quail at the sun,' said Gamling. 'And neither will the wild men of the hills. Do you not hear their voices?'
'I hear them,' said Eomer; 'but they are only the scream of birds and the bellowing of beasts to my ears.'
'Yet there are many that cry in the Dunland tongue,' said Gamling. 'I know that tongue. It is an ancient speech of men, and once was spoken in many western valleys of the Mark. Hark! They hate us, and they are glad; for our doom seems certain to them. 'The king the king!' they cry. 'We will take their king. Death to the Forgoil! Death to the Strawheads! Death to the robbers of the North!' Such names they have for us. Not in half a thousand years have they forgotten their grievance that the lords of Gondor gave the Mark to Eorl the Young and made alliance with him. That old hatred Saruman has inflamed. They are fierce folk when roused. They will not give way now for dusk or dawn, until Theoden is taken, or they themselves are slain.'
'Nonetheless day will bring hope to me,' said Aragorn. 'Is it not said that no foe has ever taken the Hornburg, if men defended it?'
'So the minstrels say,' said Eomer.
'Then let us defend it, and hope!' said Aragorn.

Even as they spoke there came a blare of trumpets. Then there was a crash and a flash of flame and smoke. The waters of the Deeping-stream poured out hissing and foaming: they were choked no longer, a gaping hole was blasted in the wall. A host of dark shapes poured in.
'Devilry of Saruman!' cried Aragorn. 'They have crept in the culvert again, while we talked, and they have lit the fire of Orthanc beneath our feet. _Elendil, Elendil!_' he shouted, as he leaped down into the breach; but even as he did so a hundred ladders were raised against the battlements. Over the wall and under the wall the last assault came sweeping like a dark wave upon a hill of sand. The defence was swept away. Some of the Riders were driven back, further and further into the Deep, falling and fighting as they gave way, step by step, towards the caves. Others cut their way back towards the citadel.
A broad stairway, climbed from the Deep up to the Rock and the rear-gate of the Hornburg. Near the bottom stood Aragorn. In his hand still Anduril gleamed, and the terror of the sword for a while held back the enemy, as one by one all who could gain the stair passed up towards the gate. Behind on the upper steps knelt Legolas. His bow was bent, but one gleaned arrow was all that he had left, and he peered out now, ready to shoot the first Orc that should dare to approach the stair.
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Voice Post [25 Mar 2013|11:49pm]
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