Peredhil

"Don't trust a statistic you haven't faked yourself." Markus Kuhn

Ummm. What is a "slam" in this context? *ducks and blushes*

! Yes. I mean, very good; resonates inside.

You could try reading through http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Betting_%28poker%29

Most people know how you stop sand erosion. You simply wait for an extremly hot day with cycloic winds and then spread fishing nets on the sand. But most people don't know that this technique has a name: A bakin' lattice and tornado sand ridge. ~~~~~ My kids are studying a fungus in science. I think it's a good way to mold young minds.

Philip Atkinson, Two modes of truth; Riches from truth, Ruin from lies Thought it interesting as I was researching the signs of a declining civilization.

Happy Birthday from one old Seeker of Babylon to another S.O.B.

Good to see poetry from you Zoolio. I like the image very much. Nit pick - should it be infinite in the last line/first stanza? Post more of your poetry.

'ey youse. Dealer. Da Boss di'n't signs up - *I* did. Sorry 'bout da delay, but Da Boss 'as been runnin' me ragged. (Guido is in the game. When his clothes changed from his black zoot suit and fedora, they would've changed to black suit pants, white lace shirt with garters, a peacock green vest with watch and silver chain with fob. and a derby bowlder hat. Like a traditional Riverboat Gambler. Sorry about the 24+ hour delay in getting back to you, Real Life snatched me.)

Be strong in yourself. Don't look for validation, Yet appreciate.

OOC - Yuki-san, it is good to see you here again. *hugs* Colors burn behind closed eyes, Red and yellow, hues of lies, And still I know your mouth will move Spewing sewage your lies to prove. Colors raged inside my heart, Blue and green, believed at the start, And still I think it all worth while When my eyes open to see your smile. Colors rage behind closed eyes, Black and grey, myself I despise, And thought I know you a pretty snake It is your sweet poisons I long to take. Colors rage outside my head, Red and Blue show you're dead, From your body life has risen You're now gone, I'm in your prison. Two lines of choice, what will you choose? "The light of Dawn's first blush" or "I rue the day ye done me wrong"

OOC: Whee! A Happy Dance indeed.

Yay! Goes to hug his Favorite Enemy and reconsiders. There you go! I *do* snore!

Seeing the determined look on her beak, Door creaks in surprise and opens in time for her to swoop in. Melba is out, and cobwebs drape artistically from stacks of old applications. Wyvern is no where in sight at the moment, but the partially eaten sandwich without mold at his desk gives hope...

Elsewhere, deep below the Pen. It was only through an intimate knowledge of Peredhil and a fierce display of Will that Elladan and Elrohir forced a small Portal through to where their father lay. The ley line that still pulsed and crackled through Peredhil's body were visible as thin blue lines stretching off in many directions. The awareness of the Pen over their head seemed to bear down on them until both were staggering from the pressure as they fought their way through the thick air to Peredhil's crumpled form. The presence of ozone added a bitter taint to the air that dried the throat as it was breathed. Elladan squatted while Elrohir lay his hands on either side of 'Dan's neck. Together, the two began softly speaking High Elven to Vilya. After a while, the Ring pulsed thrice. Elladan stood, and as each pair of ley lines flashed, with great difficulty he stretched them until they touched, at which point Elrohir used his Sword to sever the connections to Peredhil. It seemed like hours to complete the operations. As it turned out, it *was* hours. All three were drained and exhausted when done, Peredhil unconscious throughout. With the last stretch, join, and snap, the boys joined their father in enforced rest.

"We'll be at a town soon." He started in surprise. It had been days since Uncle had spoken aloud, and for a moment his speech was merely uncouth noise, the grunts of a animal. He realiezed he was staring stupidly, with his mouth open. Uncle Mordecai gently reached out his long fingers and tipped his lower jaw shut. "We'll be at a town soon," Uncle repeated slowly, looking into eyes for understanding. He nodded, a convulsive jerk of the head. "People like us aren't welcome in towns, although they'll seek us out at night. They fear us. We hear the Voices, but they only see results. And sometimes, the Voices do things for which we are blamed." He nodded again, more slowly. It was hard to focus on the meaning of the words, the syllables kept sliding smoothly like the stream over the sounding stones. He wondered if his voice would ever sound smooth like that. He either croaked or squeaked since the voices came. With a final look, Uncle sighed and turned to lead the way again. He went back to listening to the Voices gabbling.

*silently hugs to acknowledge the heart* As for the poem, I miss punctuation () but it reads well to me out loud.

Yay! The Terrible Three have all made it! Watch out for an infusion of energy in the voting. *hugs!*

Laughing out loud The pendantic Peredhil Heralds the hallowed addition Of the Eddic rip-off.

I really enjoyed this, on many levels. I too loved the closing lines. *hugs* welcome back home.

Guido, still looking for Peredhil, is instantly distracted by the mention of a poker game. Although only slightly disappointed to find out it doesn't require stirring fires, he signs up anyway on principle. Hey Nunce, whatsa Texas an' where does ya hold 'em? Nuncio grabs Guido by the ear and drags him away in the search.

Congratz! I have *no* ear for meter - I couldn't have done what you did with CIA computers helping me! Peredhil

I'm with Katz. How did I miss these before? Really good *gut* poetry. These are great reads.

Is it possible to die of embarassment? Thank you all very much, but y'all leave out the so-many flaws I have! (I guess I conceal them all succesfully or something.)