Boggies of the Sty the alternative hairy-footed folk! " Is this what they read when they can't read about Hobbits?" Pipsqueak Brandydrinker.

Over the past month the weekend's ritual has been to sit down and watched all of the DVDs of JRR Tolkin's Lord of the Rings, starting with the Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers and finally, last weekend The Return of the King.

This revered tomb of English Literature, to read, demands more than enough stamina and strength of both mind and body. Tolikin's descriptions of the World of Middle Earth can be as long and as torturous as Frodo's journey to Mordor, and the weight of the thing is at time just as heavy as the Ring of Power it's self.

To counterbalance the gravity in the Plot of this undefeated heavyweight champion of the Literary World I have returned to an old favorite of mine Bored of the Rings.

This irreverent doffing of the Thinking Cap to Tolkin can be a bit of light relief when compared to the grief and loss of LOTR and, in-between the computer, my partner and the TV, it can raise a bit of a chuckle.

'Do you like what you doth see . . . ?' said the voluptuous elf-maiden as she provocatively parted the folds of her robe to reveal the rounded, shadowy glories within.. Frito's throat was dry, though his head reeling with desire and ale.

She slipped off the flimsy garment and strode toward the fascinated boggie, unashamed of her nakedness. She ran a perfect hand along his hairy toes, and he helplessly watched them curl with the fierce insistent wanting of her. 'Here let me make thee more comfortable,' she whispered hoarsely, fiddling with the clasps of his jerkin, loosening his sword belt with a laugh.

'Touch me, oh touch me,' she crooned. Frito's hand, as though of its own will, reached out and traced the delicate swelling of her elf-breast, while the other slowly crept around her tiny, flawless waist, crushing her to his barrel chest. 'I love hairy toes,' she moaned, forcing him down on the silvered carpet. Her tiny, pink toes caressed the luxuriant fur of his instep while Frito's nose sought out the warmth of her precious elf-navel.
'But I'm so small and hairy, and . . . and you're so beautiful;' Frito whimpered, slipping clumsily out of his crossed garters.

The elf-maiden said nothing, but only sighed deep in her throat and held him more firmly to her faunlike body. 'There is one thing you must do for me first,' she whispered into one tufted ear.

'Anything,' sobbed Frito, growing frantic with his need. 'Anything!'

She closed her eyes and then opened them to the ceiling. 'The Ring,' she said. 'I must have your Ring.'

Frito's whole body tensed. 'Oh no,' he cried, 'not that! Anything but . . . that.'

'I must have it,' she said both tenderly and fiercely.
'I must have the Ring!'

Frito's eyes blurred with tears and confusion. 'I can't,' he said. 'I mustn't!'

But he knew resolve was no longer strong in him.
Slowly, the elf-maiden's hand inched toward the chain in his vest pocket, closer and closer it came to the Ring
Frito had guarded so faithfully . . .

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