The Enchantment of Grumpkin the Six Foot Dwarf

Grumpkin the Six Foot Dwarf is of foul mood and temperament lately. He broods like a watchmen that sees moving shadows in the night where there are none. Grey rain soaked mornings have had more joy in them than his face. A graveyard on a winter's morn has more warmth. No fear, for I will sing songs of minstrels of the Ancient One to ward of his demonic enchantment. If that does not work, then I will cut him down like a kitchen maid cuts a boiled potato!