There's a troll with burning voice,
who made of iron ore his choice,
who built his mines and struck it rich
without a hitch, without a glitch.

He heard his friend speak foreign tongue
and thought a marriage had been sprung
"Unenemied husband iron until?"
He nearly choked upon that shill.

Rich in boots and rich in stone,
yet generous down to the bone,
"Make sure to tell them," said he with glee,
"your favorite troll - the ladies, I mean."
A family vast, of siblings score,
half-sleeping kin and even more
he saw the numbers, rubbed his hands:
"Introduce me. I have plans."

Brave enough to face the deep,
to build his mines while others sleep,
who laughs at love and heartbreak tales
and still makes sure his poet prevails.

Not much for speeches, short on fuss,
but always there without a muss
the kind of friend worth crossing seas,
or paying fifty thousand fees.

Sir Riverthroat sends his regards.
And yes, he still outranks the bards.

Penned by my hand on the 5th of Aeguary, in the year 1001 AF.