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Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from them.
'Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo! …'
Tom paused near the hills, cocking his head curiously. The faint voice grew steadily stronger, richer, like winter earth warming under a newborn spring - as though the owner rallied courage with each word.
Why, that was Frodo! Had his little friends fallen foul of the Barrow-downs despite Tom's warning?
He shook his head in fond exasperation, blue feather waggling. Such a-ones for courting catastrophe! Lucky for them old Tom was nearby!
With a song on his lips he sped quickly uphill, banishing darkness and fear with his reply -
'Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow …'
Author's Note: Lyrics taken from The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring, Book 1, Chapter 8: Fog on the Barrow-downs.
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