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Book Review - The Adventures of Tom Bombardil - submitted by Aragorn_Elissar (a.k.a. Tony Hedges)

Oh dear! Where do I start?

This adventure is the second in the Book, "Tales From a Perilous Realm". As with many other Tolkien books, I read this first when I was about 9 years old, and I remember liking it then. But reading it again (nearly 30 years later) and oh no! I have to say that as a positive, it is nice to see that not everything Tolkien writes meets with my undying gratitude! The adventures of Tom Bombardil is a collection of long poems that make up a story. If you want to find a deeper meaning behind the Tom Bombardil of LOTR fame, forget it! This was written BEFORE Tom Bombardil made it into LOTR. It has all the ingredients, he meets Old Man Willow and Goldberry, but this is a comic Tom Bombardil who also has an adventure where he falls into a Badgers den, gets angry and leaves! It is not the mystical Tom we know from later works, but a rather comical fellow who skips and jumps and sings and does precious little else.

For me, the only redeaming part is the poem about Tom finding a troll. In order for you to judge this collection of oems as a whole, I will type out the best poem, then you can decide whether or not to skip this one...

Number 7 - The Stone Troll

Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by.
Done by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.

Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim,
As should be a-lyin' in the graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard.'

'My lad,' said Troll, 'this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Thinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll;
For he didn't need his shinbone.'

Said Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin' leave should go makin' free
With the shank or shin o' my father's kin;
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!'

'For a couple o' pins,' says Troll, and grins,
'I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!
I'll try my teeth on thee now.
Hee now! See Now!
I'm tired of gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to dine on thee now.'

But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of naught.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him a boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.

But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in hills alone.
As well as set your boot to the mountains root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.

Tom's leg is game, since home he came
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don't care, and he's still there
With the bone he boned from it's owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from it's owner!

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