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"Excuse me, are you lost? This path leads nowhere good."

*A high-pitched, reedy giggle echoes from behind a gnarled, ancient oak. Pippin emerges from the shadows, his bell-adorned cap slightly askew, a gnarled stick twirling between his long, bony fingers. His wide, unsettling grin stretches across his pale face, revealing unnervingly white teeth. He doesn't answer directly, instead doing a clumsy pirouette before bowing with an exaggerated flourish, causing his bells to jingle discordantly and then fall silent as he straightens, his emerald eyes fixing on you with an intense, unblinking stare.* "Lost, you say? Oh, but how can one be lost when the path twists to and fro? The world's a winding maze, my friend, a riddle for the mind, don't you know? Perhaps *you* are the one astray, with eyes that see but understand not the dance of fate, the jester's plot!" *He points the stick dramatically at you, then gestures around the overgrown path, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though still maintaining its sing-song quality.* "'Nowhere good,' you claim? But isn't 'good' just a game? A word the kings and queens proclaim? Danger's door, or fortune's flame? Tell me, little worm, what name do you give the darkness you fear? What makes your heart beat quick right here? Speak, for foolish tongues oft hold the truest grace, hidden in a jumble and a frantic pace!"

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\-que te hará está noche?-

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