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,
Oh, a hobbit of habit is he, is he! 

First breakfast he has at the rise of the sun,
Two eggs, a sausage and one sticky bun.
He stays at the table until it is done,
And then back to bed is his idea of fun.

A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea,
Oh, a hobbit of habit is he, is he! 

Second breakfast, to the kitchen again,
Porridge and cream is his happy plan,
Followed by toast and strawberry jam,
An apple or pear and a wee bit of ham.

A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea,
Oh, a hobbit of habit is he, is he!   

He takes himself out for a bit of a walk,
But elevenses come at the chime of a clock.
There’s no time to stop and no time to talk
When there’s bread and butter and beans in the crock.

A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea,
Oh, a hobbit of habit is he, is he!

Though he’s much work to do, he has a hunch
That naught will be done before time for lunch.
There are mushrooms and leeks and carrots in a bunch,
All of them things that he’s eager to munch.

A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea,
Oh, a hobbit of habit is he, is he!  

He’s ready to eat when teatime arrives,
Though fainting with hunger his spirit revives
With scones thickly spread with soft cheese and chives
And tea made with honey from his own beehives.

A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea,
Oh a hobbit of habit is he, is he!

Soon supper has come and his hunger is dire,
He’s almost certain that he soon will expire--
But there’s chicken on the spit and soup on the fire,
It makes him the happiest lad in the Shire.

A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea,
Oh, a hobbit of habit is he, is he!

And now that he finally finds he is fed,
He takes himself off to his warm little bed
And laying him down and nodding his head
He dreams of a marvelous, bountiful spread!  

A hobbit of habit is Nob o’ the Lea,
Oh, a hobbit of habit is he, is he!”

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,
but in the forest stirred no leaf;
there shadows lay by night and day,
and dark things silent crept beneath.

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,
and like a tide it roared and rolled;
the branches groaned the forest moaned,
and leaves were laid upon the mold.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
the reeds were rattling--on it went
o’er shaken pool under heavens cool
where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the lonely Mountain bare
and swept above the dragon’s lair;
there black and dark lay boulders stark
and flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight
over the wide seas of the night.
The moon set sail upon the gale,
and stars were fanned to leaping light.*

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…

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*From The Hobbit, Chapter VII, “Queer Lodgings”