This is the last of the Blog Party repostings from 2015. Now all of my posts are on this blog - thank you so much for your patience!
Free Day
Endorenna Utulien
The Valar, the Eldar, the Children of Men
Look back on a tale that's lost to all ken.
Their's is the lot to both learn and forget -
The wise men and jesters caught in the same net,
In a world, in a place that seems so much the same -
Similarities live only in name,
For some things as others often do appear:
The reason and stories lost to all who hear.
Riding in shadow, the Men of the West
Strive to protect life without thought of rest.
They are shunned by the ones for which they risk their lives -
Looking in on a world which unders their shield thrives.
From out of these shadows, a hope shall appear -
The healer, renewer, who banishes fear;
With a touch of his hands and the strength of his soul,
The King shall renew the life of his role.
Mounted on horses, on the wings of the wind,
The Rohirrim fight to redeem those who have sinned;
To strangle the poison that's filling their halls
To ride out en force to answer ancient calls.
Rustic and simple, with a strength that defies
The entangling darkness of Saruman's lies -
Simple in beauty, riding in with the dawn;
With a cloak made of starlight, the witch-slayer is gone.
Surrounded in comfort, ignorant of the night;
Of the fear that surrounds them - untouched by the fight
Waging outside their gardens, encroaching on their land;
Borne in amongst them by an unchanging hand.
The children of joy, dancing through spring;
Heedless of sorrow - of all evil things.
Yet winter shall come with destructive roar,
And the Shire that existed shall be seen no more.
Severe, wrapped in silver, and carved out of stone -
The city faces Mordor; it stands alone.
It waits for the Light to return to it's walls,
And weeps for the murder planned in its halls -
Brother against brother, and friend against friend:
The pull of the Stone will be everyone's end.
The fires are come and the city is lost -
'Though the battle be one, it comes at great cost.
The leaves sigh in passing as they fall to the ground -
The Wise fall in shadow, leaving no sound.
Will they stand by their allies that were long left behind?
Can they stand by in silence - can they truly be blind?
Majesty and sorrow meet in a war -
Their time is over; they are no more.
Mortals will watch as the First start to fade -
A promise is kept, and the price has been paid.
The Valar, the Eldar, and the Greatest of Men
Have shone for their moment and passed out of ken.
The Rings made in secret and the Ring made of gold
Have all long since fallen - their legend is old.
Is it all just a legend, are these lords none but tales?
Can we not walk amongst them over green hills and dales?
'Though all may have passed into myth and fantasy -
Yet these lives shall live on in words and memory.
Reflections at Mirrors
"May you have joy when you look on
The glass of Mirrormere."
But nevermore joy shall I know
For many years from here.
Oh Khazad-Dum, thou cursed thing
That stole our richest gem!
Thou thing of fire, night and death;
Unfit to touch his hem.
In Dwarrowdelf, we looked in awe
At mighty halls of stone.
He rose and sang of Durin's mirror;
The echoes fled, alone.
It is a tomb, Daeron's runes...
He read what the book said.
"Balin, the Lord of Moria,
Doth now lie here, dead.
"We cannot get out, they've taken the bridge
That's in the second hall.
We cannot get out, they are coming..."
How long until we fall?
'Ghash' means fire, what do they mean?
I feel it's getting hot.
He'll stay there to face the shadow,
But you and I cannot.
Oh Khazad-Dum, treacherous bridge;
You lead him to his death.
Oh Balrog fierce, whose whip was doom,
He wasted not his breath!
Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim;
Gandalf, the Wanderer.
Swift to anger, but ever kind;
The hidden conjurer.
You bid me have joy when I gazed
Upon fair Mirrormere;
But in the halls of Moria
My joy was stolen, I fear.
Hatanyel orenyallo! Namárië!
Endorenna Utulien
The Valar, the Eldar, the Children of Men
Look back on a tale that's lost to all ken.
Their's is the lot to both learn and forget -
The wise men and jesters caught in the same net,
In a world, in a place that seems so much the same -
Similarities live only in name,
For some things as others often do appear:
The reason and stories lost to all who hear.
Riding in shadow, the Men of the West
Strive to protect life without thought of rest.
They are shunned by the ones for which they risk their lives -
Looking in on a world which unders their shield thrives.
From out of these shadows, a hope shall appear -
The healer, renewer, who banishes fear;
With a touch of his hands and the strength of his soul,
The King shall renew the life of his role.
Mounted on horses, on the wings of the wind,
The Rohirrim fight to redeem those who have sinned;
To strangle the poison that's filling their halls
To ride out en force to answer ancient calls.
Rustic and simple, with a strength that defies
The entangling darkness of Saruman's lies -
Simple in beauty, riding in with the dawn;
With a cloak made of starlight, the witch-slayer is gone.
Surrounded in comfort, ignorant of the night;
Of the fear that surrounds them - untouched by the fight
Waging outside their gardens, encroaching on their land;
Borne in amongst them by an unchanging hand.
The children of joy, dancing through spring;
Heedless of sorrow - of all evil things.
Yet winter shall come with destructive roar,
And the Shire that existed shall be seen no more.
Severe, wrapped in silver, and carved out of stone -
The city faces Mordor; it stands alone.
It waits for the Light to return to it's walls,
And weeps for the murder planned in its halls -
Brother against brother, and friend against friend:
The pull of the Stone will be everyone's end.
The fires are come and the city is lost -
'Though the battle be one, it comes at great cost.
The leaves sigh in passing as they fall to the ground -
The Wise fall in shadow, leaving no sound.
Will they stand by their allies that were long left behind?
Can they stand by in silence - can they truly be blind?
Majesty and sorrow meet in a war -
Their time is over; they are no more.
Mortals will watch as the First start to fade -
A promise is kept, and the price has been paid.
The Valar, the Eldar, and the Greatest of Men
Have shone for their moment and passed out of ken.
The Rings made in secret and the Ring made of gold
Have all long since fallen - their legend is old.
Is it all just a legend, are these lords none but tales?
Can we not walk amongst them over green hills and dales?
'Though all may have passed into myth and fantasy -
Yet these lives shall live on in words and memory.
Reflections at Mirrors
"May you have joy when you look on
The glass of Mirrormere."
But nevermore joy shall I know
For many years from here.
Oh Khazad-Dum, thou cursed thing
That stole our richest gem!
Thou thing of fire, night and death;
Unfit to touch his hem.
In Dwarrowdelf, we looked in awe
At mighty halls of stone.
He rose and sang of Durin's mirror;
The echoes fled, alone.
It is a tomb, Daeron's runes...
He read what the book said.
"Balin, the Lord of Moria,
Doth now lie here, dead.
"We cannot get out, they've taken the bridge
That's in the second hall.
We cannot get out, they are coming..."
How long until we fall?
'Ghash' means fire, what do they mean?
I feel it's getting hot.
He'll stay there to face the shadow,
But you and I cannot.
Oh Khazad-Dum, treacherous bridge;
You lead him to his death.
Oh Balrog fierce, whose whip was doom,
He wasted not his breath!
Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim;
Gandalf, the Wanderer.
Swift to anger, but ever kind;
The hidden conjurer.
You bid me have joy when I gazed
Upon fair Mirrormere;
But in the halls of Moria
My joy was stolen, I fear.
Hatanyel orenyallo! Namárië!
