Ä TÄLË ÖF MËTÄL ËÄRTH

Gaändylf the Rocking came down and knocked on the door. Bustling noises could be heard inside and Gaändylf waited, if impatiently. His fingers twisted and flexed, a kickass air guitar solo formed, with his wizardly ways of rock.

The door opened, at last, for keeping a Wizard of Rock waiting could be dangerous indeed. Bilbö looked up at his visitor, his old friend who sported a long flowing gray beard, forked down the middle, and eyebrows that came out over the brim of his hat.

“Bilbö,” Gaändylf said, “it is good you are home. I have in mind an adventure for you.”

“An adventure?” Bilbö exclaimed, patting down all of his pockets, “I haven’t even had Headbanger’s Ball lunch yet!”

“Never mind that,” Gaändylf harrumphed impatiently, “let me in so that I can tell you of my idea.”

“Very well,” Bilbö said, throwing the horns and bowing, “enter and well met.”

“Well met, and may your neck always bang,” Gaändylf replied as he stooped low to enter the small hobbit’s hole.

Bilbö ran around his house, gathering up cheese, crackers, tea and bitch’s brew – the makings of a fine Headbanger’s Ball lunch. Hobbits often had breakfast, Satan’s breakfast, lunch, Headbanger’s Ball lunch, supper and late supper. They enjoyed their food almost as much as they enjoyed their music.

Gaändylf smiled as he waited. He knew well the Hobbit proclivity for meals. He held his mighty bass staff, idly plucking strings, and considered how to tell Bilbö that soon he would be far beyond the front of the stage and deep into the realm of backstage passes and tour bus hell.

But first – cheese, and tea.