Lord of the Rings Fanatics Plaza

This one will keep you busy for ages and you will either love it or hate it I think. It was BombadilTom who began it, and I nosed my way in then we kind of alternated on the tale to the point at which I am now uncertain which sections are BT's and which mine. And some people think I tale things to seriously - well let them read this.

THE WAR OF THE RING

Retold in simple verse by

BombadilTom of the Shire, and Saranna of Imladris


The sun shone in at the break of dawn,
As Bilbo rose with a GIANT yawn.
Today was his Birthday - Eleventy-one years old
And a party was due, a special one I’m told.
Gandalf was coming with rockets and things,
And presents for everyone; for Frodo a Ring,
A special present that Bilbo had found,
In a dark cave while crawling around,
All were invited to this special affair,
Even the Sackville-Bagginses my dear!

Well the time had come; there was food galore,
Wine, ale, Longbottom leaf- who could ask for more?
Fireworks hit the sky with a thunderous screech,
As Bilbo stood ready to make his speech,
~ Bagginses, Bolgers and Proudfoots too,
This is the end - I am leaving - it’s true.
With a flash he was nowhere to be seen,
They were all left asking ~ What did he mean?
Gandalf knew about his little trick,
And went to Bag End on the quick.
~ So you are going now; but one last thing -
You promised Frodo your golden ring!
~ I don’t know if I could leave my Precious,
Such a beautiful thing, so tremendous.
Well I am off now, give Frodo my blessing.
~ Farewell my friend - but are you not forgetting?
You still have the ring it’s in your pocket.
~ Leave it on the floor and just forget it.

Well Gandalf had to sort things out
So Bilbo left without a doubt
And the Ring sat waiting for Frodo to see -
~ I didn’t think he would leave it to me!
~ Just be careful, and keep it hid
There’s more to that Ring and I’ll make a bid
To find it out before I return -
I think there is a lot to learn.

So life was quiet for many years;
Frodo missed old Bilbo’s words,
But he had many friends to cheer him along
With walking and drinking or singing a song.
Yet life goes round in circles they say,
And Gandalf travelled back that way.
One quiet morning inside Bag End
Frodo listened to his wise old friend
And fear as black as night came on
As he realised his Ring was - The One!
~ Oh Gandalf save me from this mess,
I’ll give it to you, that would be best!

~ No, Frodo, tempt me not that way,
This is evil, not some game to play.
You must get out of the Shire and flee,
I’ll try to get back, don’t wait for me -
Hsst - someone is listening there
A young hobbit with curly hair
And I shall turn him into a toad
If he doesn’t follow you along your road.
Now get yourselves ready, Frodo and Sam
- This is the start - you are in a jam -
For the Ring has chosen Baggins it seems
And you’ve entered the Dark Lord’s evil dreams.

Frodo planned for the day to go
But never thought that others might know!
Pippin unmasked the conspiracy,
And said he would be making it three,
Over Maggot’s fields, the way to mushrooms,
As they leave the Shire danger looms,
Black riders are hunting them down.
Gildor warns them to make haste to Bree town,
Maggot feeds them and helps them on their way,
~ Be careful and travel secretly during the day.
To the old forest they came after a few days slog
Through the mist and a dense fog
Two of them are trapped by Old Man Willow,
And saved by Bombadil - a merry fellow.
Saranna Wednesday, March 08, 2006 at 03:33
Following Bombadil’s jogging feather
The tired hobbits wondered whether
They would ever come to rest.
Then they reached the loveliest, best
Dwelling at the forest’s edge
And the trees were trimmed neat as a hedge.
There they met her, Goldberry fair
Sunlight twined in her golden hair,
And Frodo spoke all in a dream
For she was the loveliest he’d ever seen.

Through days of rain they rested while
Bombadil’s tales their hearts beguiled
And then at last set out for the downs
With ponies to ride and a sky without clouds.
Goldberry sang a song of farewell
And they trotted off over the downland’s swell.

But mist came down and they were lost
And into a dreadful realm they crossed
Where an evil Wight ensnared them all
And laid them in a chamber small.
Bombadil came to the rescue again
Drove out the Wight so it screamed in pain
Old Fatty Lumpkin played his part
And brought back the ponies so they could start
Their journey afresh towards the road
And on the way there Bombadil told
They must be wary and hide their names
For they were in danger, these were no games.

At length they reached the gate of Bree
Hoping the welcoming inn to see
But the gate was barred
And the surly guard
Sank their hearts once more -
What were they in for?
The rain poured down, while they had to wait,
For the door warden’s questions ‘til he opened the gate,
The Prancing Pony was a charming inn,
And there were many guests - it was full to the brim.

~ Well four hobbits, now that is a thrill,
May I have name? ~ It’s Mr Underhill.
~ Now that reminds me - of what I don’t know
I’ve been busy of late and my memory’s slow,
Butterbur at your service and what is your need?
~ We seek Gandalf the Wizard and we would like to feed!
~ He has not been seen in these parts for half a year,
There have been strange goings on all rather queer,
Well you all sit down I will get food from the larder,
Watch out for that man in the corner -
He comes and goes but is no stranger,
A peculiar fellow – they call him a Ranger.

The hobbits tuck in to food and ale,
And carelessly they spin their tales,
Frodo slips on a table and is sent tumbling,
And in mid air his finger finds the ring!
No one can see him he is gone in a flash,
And reappears like a terrible rash,
The inn erupts and gossip spreads.
~ Come now you hobbits I’ll show you your beds.

They start to get settled then Strider appears;
~ I know what hunts you - I know what you fear.
Sam stepped forth to Frodo’s side
~ And how do we know who you are? he cried
Strider’s face looked strangely sad,
~ I don’t wonder if you think me bad
Long years of wandering and fighting - Him;
Enough to make anyone look grim;
But I am a friend of Gandalf the Grey
He asked me before he went away
To keep an eye on his hobbit friend
And help him towards his journey’s end.
I may not glimmer but my heart is gold.
And the Hobbits believed he meant what he told.

That night they slept in a guarded room
And in each bed they hid a broom.
Morning brought a fearful sight,
The beds destroyed in the dark of night,
And all the ponies driven away
They had to set out late that day
With one poor starving pony, Bill -
For him it was a welcome thrill
To travel with Sam, so kind to him -
His life before had been pretty dim.
Ferny sneered as they went by
But got an apple in the eye.
When they had left the town a while
They turned off into country wild
And through Midgewater Marshes passed
Where the bites of the midges made them curse.

~ To Weathertop we’ll make our way
T’will take us longer than a day
With very little to eat and drink,
But it has to be done whatever you think.
Poor Hobbits - in they pulled their belts
And on they trudged while their spirits fell. (Bomba) Friday, March 10,

Strider feels they are being pursued,
So he seeks a place for a better view.
~ Up to Weathertop we must climb,
Gandalf might have left a sign.
On the way up they look below -
Dark shadows they see against a full moon glow.
~ They are on our trail; the Nine are here,
Light a fire for that they fear,
Take heart for I have to scout the land,
And off he goes with a burning brand.
The hobbits tremble back to back,
As they prepare for an attack.
Through a mist the Witch King strides
With five others at his side.
The hobbits stand frozen with fear,
But Frodo speaks in Elvish clear.
The ring takes him to their domain
O Elbereth Gilthoniel! he cries in vain.
The words cannot stop their advance,
And Frodo lashes out but has no chance,
He sees their form of a ghostly life,
As he is pierced by a Morgul knife.
His scream of pain brings them aid,
As Strider leaps in with fire and blade,
They fear him now, Isildur's heir,
As he sets their forms aglare,
They flee the top in flaming tatters,
But Frodo’s alive - that’s all that matters.

Now they see the healing hands
Of one who is King of all these lands -
(Although that secret still he keeps) -
The leaves of Athelas he steeps
And bathes poor Frodo’s dreadful wound,
Bringing him back from his dark swoon.
~ He needs more healing still, my friends
We must go on round many bends
To cross Mitheithel, and then
Bruinen to our elven friends.

Bill the pony plays his part
To carry Frodo, brave his heart,
And on they trudge towards their goal
Until they spy some trolls - oh no!
But these are long to stone returned
And years ago the three trolls earned
Their place in Bilbo’s memoirs long
And now inspire our Sam to song!
Even Frodo’s smile is broad
But rest is over - to the road!

On they went over hill and hole,
After their rest at Bilbo’s Trolls.
Glorfindel came upon their course
And lent to Frodo his elven horse.
~ I have been seeking you for nine days,
Elrond sent me to guide your way,
For the nine have united and are on our trail
We must make haste, we cannot dwell.

On they went but not for long,
The nine together were too strong.
Glorfindel spoke to his elven steed,
And he was off in a flash at mighty speed.
Frodo, in a trance, held the reins tight
And to the fords he took his flight.
~ Come back, to Mordor - words echoed in dreams,
As he crossed the waters of a calming stream,
The black steeds reared on the banks of the river,
And Frodo spoke, Elven words he delivered.
They came on, but not for long,
As the rivers rose and the waves so strong,
Nine white horse were seen in the waves,
Which washed the black horses to a watery grave.

Frodo slept long and when he woke,
He was met by Gandalf and some Elven folk.
~ Be now at peace for the enemy are gone
You are in Rivendell with the Lord Elrond.
Along came Sam with a happy smile.
~ You’ve been asleep such a very long while,
Your hand was cold but now it’s warm
And there’s elves here, master - it’s like a dream!
Gandalf says there’s a Council to call
But first a feast in Elrond’s hall.
Gloin is there, with a silver beard
And a lady so lovely, a star she seemed.
After the feast Frodo is led
To where a small figure is resting its head
Upon its hand in deepest thought -
~ Bilbo! You’re here - just as I hoped.

Songs and tales flow in the hall of Fire,
Elbereth’s name is lifted higher
Than any other under the sky,
So sweet the sound you could almost cry.
The two hobbits seek old Bilbo’s room
And they chat of ordinary news
‘Til Bilbo asks to see the Ring
And seems to change to a slavering thing
All full of greed and evil’s stain
And Frodo sees this, filled with pain.
What will the future bring to him?
Tomorrow’s Council could be grim.

From afar they came as if answering a call,
Gloin and Gimli from Erebor's walls,
Elves of the household of Elrond the good,
Legolas Greenleaf from the Northern wood.
Seated alone Strider looked battle worn,
Stern was Boromir with shield and horn.
The tale of the Ring! From the time it was wrought,
Lost, found yet ever in Sauron’s thought.
After long debate Frodo broke the silence -
~ I know I must go - who can give me guidance?
Elrond looked at the hobbit with a pitying glance,
~ Frodo, I think this was made for you but not by chance -
There are powers at work that the wise fail to see,
But not alone will you go; there will be a company.
For each race of the free world will go along,
Strider and Boromir, men tall and strong,
Legolas for the Elves and for the Dwarfs Gimli
And Gandalf Mithrandir for the Istari.

~ I too must go for I won’t be left behind!
~ We two as well for the Hobbit kind!
~ Well Elrond said that now seems fine -
The Fellowship of the Ring will be Nine.
Thursday, March 23, 2006 at 03:52
In winter’s dark the nine set forth
Ever south will be their course.
Anduril now at Aragorn’s side
His deep emotion he will hide.
Along the rocky mountain paths
No lavish meals or nice hot baths
The hobbits slowly gain in strength
As each day’s journey grows in length.
Beasts of evil guise they see
Crebain that lurk in sky and tree,
Wargs that run upon their track
But there can be no turning back.
Their goal at first is Rauros-fall
And after - what? Shall they then all
Seek to enter the Dark Land
Or shall they split their little band?
The future lies unseen ahead
And none of them is free from dread.
Darkness hovers overhead,
Clouds of evil slowly spread,
Thunder strikes the mountainside,
Causing the snow in bulk to slide.
The path is blocked they can go no further,
~ The choice is made - we go through Moria,
Only Gimli was glad of the news,
The others kept quiet about their views.
Through the snow they hacked and burst,
Aragorn and Boromir going first.
The going was tough for the next few days,
But Gandalf guided them well, he knew the way
To the walls of Moria like a veil of black -
They search for a doorway, a telling crack.
But by the light of a shining moon,
All was revealed very soon,
The outline of a door appeared,
(As a rustle in the water reared).
Words of wisdom were etched in the stone,
~ Speak Friend and Enter ~ were there alone.
Gandalf tried in many verses
But the door remained closed after many curses.
Then ~mellon ~ he spoke out of the blue,
And to their surprise open it flew.
Friday, March 24, 2006 at 05:02
Yet as they sought to enter in
Terror caught them unforeseen!
A lashing tentacle from the lake
Seizes poor Frodo by the leg.
Bill the pony runs away
But Sam is forced to choose, and stay
To help the others save his master
Dashing through the doorway faster
But even so the escape is near!
They huddle in the dark and hear
The ancient trees uprooted, torn
And boulders heaped upon the door.

Now onward they will have to climb
And scrabble for a weary time
Up ancient stairs and passages
By the faint light of Gandalf’s staff;
But still unrealised, behind
A footfall soft as hobbit-kind
Runs pattering along their way
To follow them for many a day.
March 24, 2006 at 12:15
Guided by Gandalf and his glowing staff,
They often stop to feel the draught,
And Pippin drops a noisy pebble.
~ Fool of a Took! You must not meddle!
They see halls of wonder carved out of stone,
Columns galore in a twilit zone,
They gazed in wonder at the room,
Then found their way to Balin's tomb.
Gimli felt pain at the death of his kin;
~ This must be the chamber of records we’re in,
Gandalf picked up a book stained with blood,
And every heart began to thud
As a noise echoed in the depths below,
Doom, Doom, they heard in beats so slow.
The beats got faster; the enemy were near,
~ We cannot get out Gandalf read with fear.
Bar the door and take to the wall
A cave troll they have and that’s not all.
The door bursts open the troll breaks in,
But the fellowship is strong as they aim to win,
The troll seeks the ring bearer with its spear,
As Frodo tries to escape full of fear,
He fights back, he does his best,
But with a mighty thrust he is caught in the chest,
The others pounce and overthrow the troll,
But he has already achieved his goal,

Aragorn knelt where Frodo was laid
And was shocked to see him lift his head,
~ That blow was enough to fell a wild boar!
He opened his shirt - the Mithril coat he wore.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006 at 02:29
~ Half the value of the Shire,
Upon your body - that is why
You have been saved to travel on
And now we really must be gone.
They set off down the plunging stair
But Gandalf pauses, filled with care;
~ I sense some powerful force, so strong
I shall not hold it very long.
The explosion sends him flying down
And crumples up his hat and gown.
On the Fellowship must run
Ever on and on and down
Until they see the gates ahead
But fire blazes, and new dread
Falls on their hearts as Durin’s Bane
Comes on behind them - trapped again!

He stands on the Bridge now tall with wrath,
Gandalf blocking the Balrog's path,
With Glamdring raised, a brand of light.
The Beast stepped forward ready to fight,
~ Begone into the abyss whence you came,
I am a servant of the secret fire and Anor is my flame.
A blast erupted from the Balrog’s breath,
To any other, certain death,
But steady as a rock Gandalf held his ground,
~ You shall not pass! Crack! His staff came down.
The flaming mass took a step too soon,
As the bridge gave way he fell to his doom,
Gandalf turned, thought the fight was won,
As his ankle was lashed he was overcome,
~ Fly, you fools! was his last call,
As his grip gave way and he started to fall,
His friends could do nothing but save themselves,
And head for Lothlorien, land of the Elves.
Friday, March 31, 2006 at 06:18
On they ran, with sobbing breath
Certain they had seen Gandalf’s death
And out under the open sky
The Fellowship together fly.
When safe from any following foe
They give themselves up to deep sorrow
Weeping many bitter tears
For one who’d led them, over years,
His wisdom and his kindness strong -
They’d hoped he would continue long
The leader of their dreadful quest
And now which road would prove the best?

Aragorn takes them on their way,
Though for a moment Gimli stays
To look in shining Mirrormere
And see the Crown Of Durin clear.
Frodo they tend, his wounds still sore,
And then they must gather strength for more
Marching, as they move on to find
The secret land of Elvenkind.

Crossing the fair stream Nimrodel
Each feels the heart within him swell
And hope returns their grief to calm
As Lorien wraps them in its balm.
Onto the borders of Lorien they came,
And met with an Elf, Haldir his name.
~ We heard of your coming from our Rivendell kin
Hobbits we know of in long lost tales,
And knew not that still in Middle Earth they dwell,
Aragorn has the Lady’s favour,
But a dwarf I see here - now that I do not savour.
~ He was chosen by Elrond and is a trusted friend,
You must let him in or our journey here must end.
~ Then blindfold his eyes before we proceed.
~ I will not enter like a thief or beggar so take heed!
~ This is foolish but to this I say,
Blindfold us all but don’t lead us astray.
Aragorn’s eyes were covered first
And the others also as Gimli cursed,
They were led over waters and up steep hills
Haldir saw a beast in the tree, what he could not tell,
Onward they went until they came.
Into the golden wood the heart of this domain
Tuesday, April 04, 2006 at 02:37
Upon Cerin Amroth Aragorn stood
And Frodo saw at once some good
And happy memory filled his friend
Which to his face, a smile did lend.
He spoke as to one he had seen
Upon the hill where through the green
Grass the flowers of elanor
Were scattered as diamonds on a shore.
To Caras Galadhon at last
The weary company all passed
And there they saw, face to face,
Those noblest of the elven race
Galadriel and Celeborn
Whose memories stretched back to the dawn
Of elven-strife in mortal lands
And to dread Morgoth’s fearsome bands
Of Orcs and monsters, and the tales
Of Elder days ere the Trees failed.
(Bomba) Friday, April 07, 2006 at 12:25
She welcomed them all with open arms,
And they were enchanted by her beauty and charms,
They felt the intrusion of her gaze,
As their minds were left in a haze,
After she had searched for their thoughts.
Boromir was left in doubt and out of sorts
For she knew what troubled his mind,
As it did to others of his kind,
For Isildur’s bane was what he longed for
To take back to Gondor to give to the lord Denethor,
~ Rest now, as I know you are in deep grief,
No troubled sleep will you know under tree and leaf.
Night went and morning came as rushing water passing
As she found Frodo and Sam, who for elven magic was asking.
~ Come to my mirror and gaze into the pool,
See what you will but be alert and careful,
For things appear from the past,
And others see what has yet to cast,
But fear not, I am sure you will pass the ordeal,
Things may seem strange but they are real.
Sam looked, but nothing could he see at first;
~ They’re ripping up the row, he burst,
And fell sobbing on the floor,
~ I shall not look here any more!
~ What about you Frodo do you want a peek?
~ I will look and see what it is I seek.
A fog and mist and a storming blizzard,
A bent old man or a White Wizard,
Dark ships on a raging sea,
Flying banners of a White tree,
A black chasm with an eye that spun
Seeking him above everyone
Sunday, April 09, 2006 at 09:44
~ Do not touch the water bright!
She knew he gazed upon the light
Of that Red Eye that blazed across
The whole of Middle Earth and longed
To see its creatures all his own,
All works of Elves and Mortals gone.
Frodo, recovering his breath,
Spoke words that shook the Lady’s heart.
~ I will give you the shining Ring,
I cannot deal with such a thing,
But you are wise and good and true,
Accept it, Lady, I beg you.
The great one staggered where she stood,
~ You say that I am wise and good!
Yet tempt me not with this dread jewel
For though I have dreamt of its power
I see now that I would arise
A dread dark Queen, a fearful guise,
And so I must accept my fate,
The Ring must still be yours to take.

The time to leave Lorien now had come,
For the Quest had to move there were things to be done,
Gifts Galadriel gave to them all,
Lembas, a lock of hair, light in a phial,
Elven boats to send them on their way,
Except for Boromir they wished they could stay.
She bade them farewell from a swan shaped vessel
And knew that their journey would be full of hassle.
The great river Anduin was now their road,
And all they wished to see were frogs and toads!
But black swans flew now overhead,
Which left the company full of dread,
Treeless banks and logs with eyes,
Boromir muttering, his feelings disguised,
Gollum the water rat was on their trail,
Aragorn had known since the Nimrodel.
Onward they rowed with watchful glances
Staying central on the river and taking no chances,
But the river narrowed and started to swell,
And rapids were ahead as well.
The Orcs chose their spot for an attack,
For they had to go forward there was no turning back,
Arrows flew from every way.
~ Row as hard as you can we must reach the other bay,

Through the rapids they carried their craft
Carried on down the river at last.
To the Argonath the travellers came
And Aragorn did not look the same!
Proud and kingly now was he
No wandering vagabond drinking in Bree.

To Parth Galen at last they made their way,
But here the fellowship would not stay.
At the lifting of the fog they scanned the shore,
But the call of Minas Tirith in Boromir's heart it tore,
What was Frodo to do in this hour of choice?
~ May I have an hour? Then you will hear my voice.
Aragorn looked upon his friend with a pitiful glance,
As he walked away with his mind in a trance,
Wandering in the forest amongst the broken stone,
He heard steps behind him; he was not alone,
Running up the winding stair overcome with fear,
When right in front of him Boromir appeared.
~ Let me take it for the Dark lord I will banish!
~ No it’s my precious ~ and then he vanished.

Frodo was lost in the mists of the Ring
Everything looked strange and thin
He looked to the West, the North and the South
The Gap of Rohan like a green great mouth
But east his aching eyes were drawn
And there lay darkness instead of dawn
And a voice cried loudly, ~ Come to me
Or your bones shall drift in the deep dark sea!
Frodo crouched in fear and shame
But another voice called him - not by name -
~ Fool! It hollered, Fool, take it off
The game’s not lost if the Ring you doff.
The Ring fought hard but he pulled it free
And the Dark Lord wailed in misery
While Northaway old Gandalf sighed,
Hobbits - enough to make a Wizard cry!

Frodo’s eyes were sore at the sudden light,
As he took off the Ring and won that fight.
He pondered a while to plan a course to take,
And then he headed for the boats on the lake.

Poor Boromir, tempted by the Ring,
Brought about the very thing
That he had said must never be -
He frightened Frodo and made him flee
Toward the Black Land - but not alone
Though Sam tried to swim and sank like a stone
Frodo rescued him by his hair
And together they set off from there.

Meanwhile Gandalf down the mountain climbed -
It would have taken quite a time -
But as luck so often has its way
An eagle was passing that fine day
And gathered up the wizard old,
Seeing that he was getting cold.
To Lorien the great bird flew
Where all the pretty Mellyrn grew
And all the elf-lords covered their eyes -
A naked Istar! What a surprise.
~ Gandalf, please put on this robe
If you wish to enter our abode.
Lady Galadriel sounded cross,
And after all, she was the boss
So Gandalf draped himself in white,
A far more-re-spec-table sight.

The others at the camp were deep in debate,
Discussing their own and Frodo’s fate,
~ As sure as his name is Baggins he is in a stew,
For he cares for us all and don’t know what to do,
I didn’t like what Boromir said it had a mischievous tone.
~ Sam you’re wisest of us all, I fear he has gone alone.
Boromir entered from the trees,
With head in hands he fell to his knees,
His face was pale and his features grim.
~ Where is Frodo, what have you done to him?
As Aragorn tried to bring some order to the hunt,
Sam was off like a rabbit and well in front;
~ Now hold on Sam no time to mope,
Think, he’s got no gear - he’s gone to the boat!
Merry and Pippin went up a stone stair,
Only to find that there were Orcs up there!
Overpowered they were gagged and bound
But Boromir sprang, sword in hand
The earth shook at the blast of his horn
Given by his father on the day he was born.
Many orcs he slew with thrusting blows
But arrows pierced him from fifty bows.
The sound of his horn made a ghostly wail
And the fall of Boromir is now but a tale.

Upon the great hill of Amon Hen,
Stands the high seat of the Kings of Men.
Climbing the stones of the Northern Stair,
Strider longed to feel the wind in his hair,
For his kinsmen made them in a time long gone,
What will he see there, Aragorn son of Arathorn?
But the horn of Rohan sounds below,
And Aragorn must turn and go.


Grief was in Lord Aragorn’s heart
He’d feared for Boromir from the start
And sorrowed now to see him lie
His life slow-ebbing under the sky.
Taking the warrior’s noble hand
The rightful King and his watching band
Gimli the Dwarf and Legolas the Elf
Praised his deeds as one of themselves
Tempted sore and briefly mad
Yet best of companions they could have had
Brave with the spirit of Numenor
But his home would never see him more.
These jaunty rhymes have slowed their pace
To linger on that noble face
And tears drop slow beneath the leaves
Where the King returning kneels and grieves.

~ We must not waste time we have to choose,
Before it’s too late and the tracks we lose,
Frodo and Sam are beyond our aid.
Come Legolas and Gimli a choice I have made,
To free Merry and Pippin, to remain true,
Is all that we can hope to try and do.

Climbing the waste land of the Emyn Muil,
The terrain was hard, bitter and cruel.
~ A right pickle we're in and no mistake,
Here Master, some lembas to keep you awake.
Can you smell that awful stench?
It has a fishy stink like a rotten tench,
We are going in circles - will we ever reach our goal?
And Gollum’s following us I know.
They take turns to sleep and keep a watchful eye,
For Gollum is crafty cunning and sly,
~ We wants it, they took it in gurgling tones,
As he slithers down in slime on the hillside stones.
But they were alert to his gnawing need,
And wrestled and tied him with an elven lead.

The other two hobbits were made to run
With no second breakfast - not much fun!
Terrible orcses lashing whips
Jeering if they made any slips,
Merry’s head ached fit to burst
Pippin very nearly cursed!
But a bright idea came into his head
~ I can leave a clue, he said
And made a dash from the orcses band
His Lorien brooch clasped in his hand
And before the nasties hauled him back
He’d left that jewel by the track.
A horrid blow was his reward
For dropping the clue upon the sward
But the stupid orcs didn’t realise
The hobbit had hidden from their eyes
A sign for those who followed on
To help them trace where the two had gone.

On and on they had to run,
Till long before the day was done
They fell like stones upon the ground.
The orcses seized them by their bound
Wrists and carried them like sacks
Upon their horrible smelly backs.
Our heroes are in a dreadful plight -
What will happen - we’ll see come night!

~ Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall!
Come friends we still have a long haul.
Running hard like a galloping horse,
Over ragged ground, a trying course,
Entering Rohan from the western plain,
But the Uruk Hai were hard to gain.
~ What do your keen eyes see Legolas?
~ One hundred riders galloping over grass
With golden hair and spears and shield,
They come this way; shall we yield?

~ Take it off us, it hurts it does, nasty string!
~ And what promise will you make to the Ring?
For I know your mind is treacherous.
~ I swears I does, I swears upon the Precious!
~ There is no promise you make that I can trust,
And if you try anything here’s Sting - feel her thrust.
~ We will serve the Master of the Precious we will!
~ You have been to Mordor do you know the way still?
~ Yes I have been, nasty place, don’t go that way!
~ Listen to Master- to the Black Gate I say.

Bold stood the three as Rohan came
Right on their side, eyes aflame
Circled by riders still they stood
Determined to serve only good.
~ Well, little dwarf, young Eomer cried
You sure look titchy by my side
And you’ve been through the forest gold,
Ruled by a witch as I’ve been told.
Bristling beard and waving axe
Gimli is right on the attack
But Aragorn and Legolas calm the scene
Telling Eomer they have been
All on the same side in the fight,
Against the Dark Lord, for the light.
~ But tell us have you seen our friends?
Can this be where their story ends?

Cold in the wind and damp in the toes
The hobbits through the marshes go
Fear in the skies above them flies
And Gollum slobbers before their eyes.
Frodo is weary, Sam full of doubt
He just can’t make old Gollum out.
But what to do? They have to go on
In regions far from light and song.
He watches Gollum day and night,
Tries to keep his Master bright
And nearer through the dim grey sky
The mountains of Mordor looming high.

Then came upon the orcs with lightning speed,
The men of Rohan on galloping steeds,
To rid their land of Saruman’s slaves,
And stack them on a burning grave
Eomer the loyal to Theoden king,
Never saw the two halflings.
Cutting their bonds into Fangorn they went,
Where they met Treebeard, lord of the Ents,
~ Well little orcs what brings you in here?
~ We're not orcs, but Hobbits from the Shire,
~ Hobbits! Well I’ve never heard of those,
To the White wizard let’s see if he knows.

Searching the embers of the funeral pyre,
Aragorn looks and his feeling is dire,
Gimli holds an elven belt he has found,
As Aragorn sees signs on the ground,
A hobbit lay here and another one too -
Crawling away he left us a clue,
~ Bonds have been cut so their legs were free,
They ran this way into the trees,
Into Fangorn - what a drove them there?
The will to be free is one of despair.

~ He has gone again which is becoming a habit
~ I goes to get food I does look here are two rabbits!
Nice and tender they’re lovely raw,
As he breaks one in half and starts to gnaw.
~ Leave them alone you’re making us sick,
Now a fire we need go bring us some sticks.
~ Why do Hobbits want fire give Gollum a clue?
~ ‘Cos a brace of coneys is right for a stew!

The three friends ’neath an old tree sat
Saw an old man in a shadowing hat.
~ Saruman! Hissed Gimli bold,
But soon he’d vanished in the dark night cold.
Next day they climbed a little hill
Seeking those lost hobbits still,
And there! Again, among the trees
Approaching them with silent ease
An old man, he was dressed in grey -
But no! A white robe bright as day!
Sword and axe and bow were drawn
To bring an end to Saruman
Until the wizard bared his head -
Oh Valar! Gandalf there instead!
Gimli fell upon his knees
Sword and arrow flew up through the trees,
The great one had come back from death
Hope returning to their quest.

Frodo slept when the stew was gone
And Gollum had vanished down along,
When Sam saw the fire’s smoke arise
And muttered, ~ Gamgee, use your eyes
If you can see it, enemies will!
But too late - all around the hill
The rangers of Ithilen
Had gathered - tall bold fighting men.
The Hobbits stood there with their swords
But ended up prisoners of the Lord,
Brave Faramir of the Tower of Guard
But Gollum had slipped away to hide.

Then came the thundering of mighty feet
And the rangers mustered, went to meet
The mighty Mumakil from the south -
Sam’s heart was fluttering up to his mouth
When at his feet a soldier fell
And in sadness the Hobbit bade him farewell.

~I come to you at the turning tide,
For war is upon us to Rohan we ride.
~But what of the hobbits? We can’t leave them here.
~They’re with the ents now have no fear,
For their coming has woken a might,
The ents in anger is not a welcoming sight,
Come my friends we must go with speed,
Gandalf whistles, calling a galloping steed,
That races to the call of his master
Shadowfax, horse lord, none is faster.

They came to the gates of the Golden hall
Where Wormtongue the sneak was making the call,
The gates are opened, the great hall they enter,
Theoden King enthroned at the centre,
Old and draggled he can hardly stand,
As he holds a stick in a withering hand,
~ War is upon us you cannot wait,
~ Stormcrow, horse thief, you I hate!
~ You have been fed lies by this cunning snake,
For Wormtongue is Saruman’s spy make no mistake.
Begone from him now! Gandalf raises his staff,
~I told you to forbid it, Wormtongue screams at last.
The Wizard’s words make Theoden shake
As his body is freed and now awake.

Faramir binds them and covers their heads,
Over watery stones they are carefully led
As they climb higher water cools the air
As they walk up an ever rising stair.
Their heads are uncovered, they are told to rest,
For they now look out from the window of the west.
~Who do you spy for what are you doing here?
~I am Frodo, a hobbit, I come from the Shire,
And this is Sam my servant true,
We are on a quest - what do you intend to do?
~There is another that sneaks with you.
~ We are alone it’s just us two,
We set off from Rivendell in a company of nine,
An Elf, a Dwarf, two Men, two kin of mine.

So Wormtongue flees to his master false
And Theoden the King comes forth
Standing upright, unafraid
Gladdening the hearts of man and maid.
~Let the host gather now, he cries,
The battle-light shall fill our eyes,
We shall be true to oaths of old
For honour weighs far more than gold.
~My Lord, I too would ride with thee.
~Eowyn - is it you I see?
No. No. Good niece, at home you’ll stay
To lead the folk while I am away.
First to Helm’s Deep the host rides forth
Where deeds shall be done of mighty worth.

Frodo sees Faramir is stern
Yet filled with honour that brightly burns.
Still he seeks to hide the quest -
So near the Black Land that seems best.
Poor sleepy Sam is a different thing
Out of his mouth falls the wrong word - Ring!
Faramir stands tall and dread
~ Oh Master - what have I gone and said?
But the blood of the Faithful still runs true
And Faramir knows what to do.
~I will aid you on your way
And may you live for many a day.

Frodo wakes in the deep of night
And Faramir shows him a sight
He’d hoped to never see again
Gollum fishing under the moon.
~ No, slay him not, I beg, he says
For along with us his future lies.
Poor Gollum throws away his fish
For this is not what he would wish;
But he’s a prisoner till the dawn
When he must lead the hobbits on
Toward the haunted valley dread
With evil in his treacherous head.

~ On the fifth day at dawn look towards the east,
I must seek aid to fight the oncoming beast,
Your strength is now needed, now they will see your worth,
For the sword that was broken returns to Middle Earth,
Upon the battlements men take their stand,
Farmers, bakers, boys and stable hands.
Under banners of a white horse on emerald green,
The rain pours as Theoden stands strong and keen.
The Uruk Hai are many, ten thousand and more
But the Deep has never been breached before.
A horn is blown on a western breeze,
By the Dunedain, a sight to please.
~ Be true to your kinsman and your king,
Take aim with your bow and tighten the string
Raise your sword and shield
Sons of Eorl will never yield!

Stones crush the fortified wall
As arrows fill the sky at Aragorn’s call.
A troll carries a barrel of flame
And throws it into a gully drain,
Thunder blocks out all other sound,
For a weakness in the stone is found.
Aragorn leads them into the breach,
He is alone now out of reach.

Come now Hobbitses no time to spare,
~ We have a hard climb up the forgotten stair.
~ And where will it take us what’s at the top?
~ Just keep moving, there are orcses, no time to stop!
~ We need to rest and eat for the master is weak,
And I don’t trust you you’re up to something you sneak.
At the top a smell fills the air all around,
As a tunnel formed in the mountain is found.

Through that dark night the battle raged
Dwarf, elf, human, young and aged
Fighting against an endless host
Till dawn draws near- can all be lost?
No, for Theoden King rides forth
And Aragorn for Gondor leaps to horse.
They drive the orcs back against all hope
Tumbling down the rain-soaked slope -
But what? - a forest where none stood!
Is it the work of evil or good?
The orcs are feared to enter there
But all at once to their despair
Rides Erkenbrand into the fray
And the White Rider leads the way.
Wailing they flee into the woods
But none returns - their geese are cooked!

Into the tunnel’s noisome night
The hobbits pass trembling with fright
Clasping each the other’s hand
Wondering if they’ve strength to stand.
Gollum has vanished soft away
And left them all alone to stray.
They pass an opening malice-filled
And stagger past it, fainting, ill
Then worse - a dragging sound behind
And shining eyes that pierce their minds.
No help to run, for she leaps fast
But courage comes along at last
To Frodo, hobbit of the Shire
Who raises up the star-glass higher
And speaks the name Galadriel
To fright the beast from darkest hell.

Like an avalanche they crash their ranks,
As the Uruk Hai were trampled their spirits sank.
Gandalf comes down with a flame so bright,
That they disperse and run full of fright,
The battle is won! Now time to regroup,
And march to Isengard with a chosen troop.

~ Now don’t be hasty for that is daft,
Sit you down now and drink this draught,
Made by the ents it will give you vigour,
It may even make you grow a lot bigger.
~ We must be moving there’s a war out there,
It seems to me that you just don’t care!
~ We Ents take our time to decide what to do,
Let us walk to the south get a view.
Many friends once stood on these hills,
Now Saruman’s orcs have felled and killed,
Rock and stone will be uprooted now,
For we Ents will do damage to this I vow!
Boulders flew and walls were rammed,
They even burst open the river’s dam.

Up ride the Kings to Isengard
Expecting that the gate will be barred
But at the entrance what they see
Are two tallish hobbits making free
With stores of food and ale and baccy
- the last one makes our Gimli happy!
~ Where have you been you pesky pair?
We have run after you here and there
And now you sit as calm as calm
While we’ve been caught in battles warm!
~ Oh there were battles hereby, too
Sit down and eat, we’ll tell to you
Of how the brave Ents fought and won
And Saruman’s time is truly done.
The Three sit down beside their friends
And rest awhile - but it’s not the end.

Running free beyond the cave
Our Frodo hopes that they are saved
But up the dreadful monster springs
And flattens him, and then she stings.
Then Samwise shows his courage true
Fury shows him what to do.
Beneath the spider’s hideous shape
He holds up Sting - she won’t escape
For she is wounded deep and sore;
But Samwise looks at her no more.
Beside his Master poor Sam kneels,
~ Oh Frodo, Frodo, me dear, me dear!
Now none can help me - he is dead,
And I must take the Ring instead.

~ Hobbits you are always eating,
Is what Gandalf said at their meeting.
~ Well the salt pork is really good,
And Treebeard awaits you by the door he is stood.
Aragorn, Theoden, meet Fangorn the old,
Treebeard he is of whom many tales told,
~ Rock and stone we can rip and tear,
But there’s a wizard to deal with up there.
~ Yes I know and now he must be called,
He has strayed from the path of wisdom, the fool.
Come Saruman for we wish to speak!
~So now it is counsel that you seek,
You and that Ranger from a race forlorn,
And that horse king who can’t even blow a horn!
You who send others to their peril,
Into the wastelands of Mordor’s hell.
~Be silent! Your words hold no power,
For your time is ended - come down from the tower.
~ Go away and leave us or you’ll all be dead,
Wormtongue shouted as he tossed a ball at Gandalf’s head.

Off she wobbles deep in pain she sulks
As a stenching pus seeps from her bulk.
Bound by webs of stringy silk,
Frodo lies still, as white as milk.
~I must go on to fulfil the quest,
To take the ring to do my best,
~ Look you louts, Shelob’s been busy,
He’s not dead but when he wakes he will be dizzy,
Up to the tower with him he’ll wish he were dead.
~ Sam you fool you should have used your head!
Up they hurl him and drag him through the dirt,
And fight over his mithril shirt,
Forward Sam flies with Sting in hand,
And killing those who in his way stand.

~ It’s not for hobbits Gandalf cries
And covers it before their eyes
The Palantir of ancient fame
Is far too dangerous a game
And from the tower a shout is heard
As Saruman cries, ~You silly nerd
You witless Wormtongue, why oh why
Was it the Palantir you let fly?
Now off they ride, the noble host
Leaving the ents at their guard-post
For though at Helm’s Deep they have won
The war is still but just begun.

With Starglass and bright sword in hand
Samwise holds off the orcish band
For some have slain their fellows here
And some have fled the tower in fear
And some are sure that little Sam
Is a great elven fighting man!
But Frodo - where is he to be found?
Sam climbs up high above the ground
From floor to floor without a sight
And darkness clouds his eyes like night.
He rests upon the highest stair
And sings while he is sitting there
Of sunlight high above the shade
And starlight on the ocean laid
When up above he hears a sound -
’Tis Frodo - Master, you are found!

Pippin stirred as he tried but could not sleep
For the sight of the globe was etched in his mind deep,
Unable to stop the growing urge,
Wrapped in his cloak he made a surge,
Crawling like a snake seeking prey,
He edged his bulk Gandalf’s way,
With a robber’s touch he lifted the ball,
And replaced it with a stone - the fool.
Moving away to a place of seclusion,
He looked into the globe and saw a world of confusion,
Shocked he cried and collapsed with fear,
He was lucky that Gandalf was near.

~ Master Sam is here take it steady,
For we must depart as soon as you’re ready.
~ Sam they have it they taken the ring!
~ Oh no they haven’t it’s in my keeping.
~ Give it back Sam, it’s mine, trusted to me!
As he put forth his hand with urgency.
~ Take it Mr Frodo but we must go from here,
Wait a while you need to wear this gear,
Orcs’ attire is all I could get,
We must be going, we’re not safe yet.

~ Wake up! Peregrin! Gandalf cried
And searched to see if Pippin lied
But the hobbit’s solid head
Had fended off the Dark Lord dread.
~ You’ll ride with me now, fast as light
And gallop on all through the night
While Theoden and Aragorn
Must summon all the Host to form
A battle-army strong and bold
To ride to Gondor as foretold
In promises and solemn oaths
Such as the Lord of evil loathes.
So Shadowfax flies beneath the stars
With Pippin hid in Gandalf’s arms.

Arrayed as Orcish soldiers now
Frodo and Sam sneak from the tower
And straight away are nearly seized
By fell claws of the Nazgul steed.
They stumble on along the way
Further into the dreadful day
That stretches over Mordor’s plain
And fear they’ll not see home again.
Already weary half to death
They long to rest and catch their breath
But flung into a band of orcs
They have to run a weary course.

~ We have now crossed onto Gondor’s borders,
Where Denethor rules and tries to keep order,
So watch your words and do not speak
For he will question you and think you are weak.
He sees much but has not the power to manage,
I fear he already has done some damage.
~ Denethor your city is on the verge of attack!
~ Tell of this broken horn and why Boromir won’t be back?
~ He died saving me and my kin.
And many arrows pierced his skin,
I give you my service and my oath
It may seem a little but I give both.

~ Denethor, seek aid and light the Beacons,
For an army approaches with just one reason,
To rid middle Earth of the race of men!
I decide, Mithrandir, what we do and when.

~ I will seek the paths of the dead,
Alone for I know not the road ahead.
We have come too far to say farewell,
We will follow you even to hell.
Into the gorge their horses bolt
As a ghostly mist brings them to a halt.
Isildur’s heir, Aragorn I be,
Now fulfil your oaths and be free,
For the King of Men reclaims his Throne
For I am Elessar The Lord Elfstone,
Now follow me for we go to war,
To the Corsairs for ships and oars.

They break away from the army of orcs,
At a crossroad where the road forks,
The roaring fire of the volcano looms
As they make their way towards Mount Doom,
But the weight of the ring is a burden to carry,
The going is slow as they slog and tarry,
~ Come mister Frodo ride on my back,
As I can manage you on this track

The Nazgul Lord is at the gate
Gandalf stands up to him - But wait!
Here Pippin runs in a dreadful state.
~ Faramir, Denethor - their fate
Will end in flames unless you hurry!
So up the winding streets they scurry
Coming in time for Faramir
But Denethor slays himself in fear.
Upon the Pelennor battle roars
And Theoden dies beneath his horse.
Eomer King’s hope is a blossom frail
As he sees approaching the Corsair sail -
But lo, the White Tree shining bright
And Aragorn comes to swell the fight.

~I see it ever, day and night
Nothing can hide the wheel of light.
Oh Sam, I cannot travel on
All hope of victory is gone,
I’m sorry I have led you here
Where death will take us both, I fear.
~ Master, be bold, your Sam will bear
You up the mountain’s dreadful stair,
For poor old Gandalf says to me
Don’t you leave him, Sam - you see,
I’ll never go and let you fall
Until we reach the end of all.

Theoden’s steed becomes his bane,
By the Witch King of Angmar both are slain,
He dismounts to gloat on the spoil,
But stopped in his tracks by Dernhelm the loyal;
~ Begone from him or I will do you some harm!
But the Nazgul breaks his arm;
By no man will I ever be killed
But the cast-off helm a woman revealed.
~Eowyn maiden of Rohan I be
And so I am No Man, you see!
With all her might she struck that blow,
As Merry pierced his ankle below,
But killing such power is no easy claim,
Both are left on the Pelennor writhing in pain.

On the horizon looking towards the sea,
Galleys galore with another army!
Hearts sink as they come in view,
But then banners are seen - can it be True?
Seven stars, a crown and a blazing white Tree,
The King Elessar comes with the dead army,
They overthrow Sauron’s might.
But now all thoughts are cast on Frodo’s plight.
~Time we must give him and draw the Eye this way,
An army will march to the Black Gate with no delay.

Sam buckles with his master’s weight,
As Gollum attacks with malice and hate,
Strength comes to Sam from a source unknown,
And he wrestled with Gollum, who in a chasm was thrown,
Frodo struggled up the sloping peak,
But the going was tough, he was getting weak,
Courage of his race he drew from within,
And the fate of Middle Earth was now with him.

Prince Imrahil with his quick eye
Saves Eowyn ~ Well use your eyes,
This gallant woman is not dead!
While kneeling at her side, he said.
But one poor hobbit’s overlooked
And staggers forward - his goose is cooked!
But as he faints within the town
He’s found by Pippin walking down
To seek his brave heroic friend
And so for him it’s not the end.

The captains of the West set forth
With thousands of infantry and horse
Eastward they march to Mordor’s wall
Raise up the statue’s head that fell
And turn to the North, to the Black Gate
In hopes of sealing Sauron’s fate.
Lo - some turn back, the fear is deep
But Aragorn tells them, Do not weep,
There are brave deeds for you to do
And we must seize Cair Andros too.

The Sammath Naur! Frodo stands small
As shadows flare upon the wall
And far below the rocks that melt
Blaze forth their flames - and he has felt
Temptation’s pull - he takes the Ring -
I do not choose to do this thing!

The Black Gate opens a rider sets out
On a jet black beast with a fiery snout,
~ Set down your arms! - to the King of the west,
Begone from here if you know what’s best,
For these trinkets we seized from your spy,
Now we have him and soon he will die,
~ Be silent! Aragorn sternly said,
And riding forward, filled him with dread.
For Sam and Frodo and the Free,
Come now my friends to war with me!

Sam begged Frodo to throw in the ring,
But the power was too great to do such a thing,
On his finger the ring was cast
And the eye was on him very fast,
All Sauron’s thought now bent that way,
As Gollum surfaced to grab his prey,
He sprang onto an invisible space,
And struggled and wrestled about the place,
A yell of pain louder than the molten lake -
Frodo had lost the ring a costly mistake!
Gollum now had his Precious back,
Dancing for joy he then fell off the track,
Ring and Gollum fell into the lava
And both perished forever and ever,
The Earth cracked and chasms appeared,
As Sauron’s minions scattered in fear,
For the power that held them was now undone,
Frodo had triumphed, the war was won.
The Eagles are coming! As Gwaihir came
And Nazgul perished in the flames,
The eruption of the fall of Mount Doom -
Two hobbits they see and down they zoom.

Faithful Sam leads Frodo down
Away from the falling of Mount Doom.
Glad I am that you are here
With me at the end now, Samwise dear.
But Sam looks up to skies above
Hoping beyond the end of hope -
Then both they swoon, amid the steam
And drift into a dreadful dream.

Sweet sunlight wakes them, song of birds
Dearer than any they have heard
And before all the western host,
The Ringbearers stand - Sam’s thrilled the most
When forth the Minstrel stands, and sings
Of Nine-Fingered Frodo and Sam who brings
Him safe to the fearful journey’s end -
Did ever hero have such a friend? 2006 at 11:46

~Praise the halflings with great praise!
Men greeted them as the gathering gazed
Beneath an archway of silver-leaved trees,
Knights in silver black mail bowed on one knee,
Onto green pastures along the rivers shore,
Many ships were gathered in the harbour moored
Red rosy cheeks both their faces aglow
They saw the banners in a soft breeze blow,
A great horse running over the throne on the right
On the left a swan ship in blue and silver so bright.
In the centre a great standard was cast,
A white tree a crown with seven stars on a mast,
A kingly man rose and they could now see,
It was Strider the Ranger they first met at Bree.
~ Praise them the halflings saviours of this land!

Now Eomer was king of his fathers land,
And granted Faramir Eowyn's hand,
So that Rohan and Gondor were joined for good.
And all knew that Fangorn was Treebeard's wood,
After many days of merriment the Hobbits’ desire,
Was to be on their way back home to the shire.
~ I know what calls you but not long now,
For soon I shall fulfil a vow.

And now she comes, the Evenstar
With noble elf-lords from the far
Valley of Imladris the fair
For long she has been nurtured there.
She takes Elessar by the hand
And healing comes to that weary land
The Peredhel unite again
Spring blossoms, like a gentle rain
And hope renewed is fair and sweet
As King and Queen ascend their seats.

Spare thought for Elrond, noble Lord
Whose daughter dear, with his accord
Has made the choice of Luthien
So never shall they meet again!
Long in the hills they linger still
Talking of all that has befell
But their sad parting still must come
For so is laid the Valar’s Doom.
2006 at 11:58
The Hobbits depart, the fellowship ends,
Gimli and Legolas are now good friends.
Gandalf with the halflings takes the road for Bree,
Then goes to see Bombadil and fair Goldberry.
Onward the Hobbits head for the Shire,
And when they get there they see fences and fire.
~They have ripped up the row and old mill is gone!
~Well let’s find out what’s going on!
Ruffians and chiefs now give the orders;
~We’ll see about that now we’re back in our borders.
They discard their cloaks and armour is revealed
Pippin and Merry go forth with sword and shield,
They carve their way and set Hobbiton free,
As the Ruffians run scared - in all directions they flee.

The years pass and things are set to rights,
But Frodo still dreams and has restless nights,
For being impaled by a Morgul blade,
Leaves the victim in pain that never fades.
One evening with the stars shining so bright
Were heard fair voices; then they came in sight,
Elves singing as they rode along,
There came Galadriel singing a song
Followed by Elrond and Gandalf close by,
And Bilbo also, a tear in his eye,
~It is time Frodo will you now come?
I must leave you Sam my faithful chum.
Narya the great glows a blazing red,
As the great sun in the sky overhead.
The days have ended for the power of the Rings,
‘Tis the time of man and the Return of the King,
The sails billow as a wind gathers in
Sam stands crying as the voyage begins.
The Vessel glides with the grace of a swan,
And in the moonlight mist is soon lost and gone.
Merry and Pippin come to ride with Sam
Back to the quiet of their little land.
At Bag End he kisses his daughter’s head;
Well, dear Rosie, I’m back, he said.

Okay as I admitted before I am not so good at poetry or reviews of it, this - is a fantastically long poem and I will admit to having not read it all. Mostly because my brain will not process that much poetry in one go. I have read the first few... verses? Stanzas? (I got to where Gandalf was making a bid so the first three are read) And honestly I love it perhaps because I feel like it could be a Pratchett spoof of the LOTR??? It's light hearted enough for it but is still (at least thus far that I've read) on brand with Tolkiens story

Glad you liked it @I Said What I Said yes it's intended to raise a laugh but an affectionate one. I don't imagine Tolkien would have liked it though!

I laid a lawn when my house was new,
Faithfully fed its dark slow greening.
Borders rampant with feverfew
Rosemary, lavender, medlar leaning

Kingsfoil, comfrey spreading sweet;
These I nourished about its border.
I nursed my lawn through the summer heat,
Banished the fallen leaves’ disorder,

Watched it sleep through the winter’s chill
And trimmed it anew with spring’s returning.
Through my children’s games my lawn flourished still,
Its green blades cheerfully, stoutly rising

Till the Shadow rose in the eastern sky
And the city’s gardens sickened, dying
As our children died at the Steward’s cry
On the sullied grass by the Rammas lying.

I left my house for the western shore
And there I listened to dark waves lilting,
Tearless for all that had gone before,
Dry as the grass in my garden wilting.

One came to us there unlooked for, speeding,
His stumbling horse all lathered wended
While he waved and shouted, “Now ends our grieving!
The King returns and the Shadow’s ended.”

Strange paths of elvish dreams

Summer was fair in Ithilien in the sixty-third year of the reign of Elessar the King. Gladly through its glades and groves wandered Legolas Greenleaf, elven lord in that land of men, upon a fair morning. He had breakfasted at Henneth Annûn with Faramir his friend, Prince of Ithilien under the King. Along the banks of a stream he wandered, down toward Anduin for sheer delight in the journey through a land at peace. Yet there befell him that day one of the strangest adventures that ever came to elven-lord in Middle earth.
Toward noon he came to a willow tree that bent low over the banks of the stream, just where it flowed into the mightier waters of Anduin. The sun was now at its zenith, and the air warm and heavy with the buzzing of insects and the rushing of the waters. Legolas ducked under the trailing canopy of the willow-fronds, and seated himself with his back against the aged trunk. For a long while he sat there, watching the river flow away to the distant sea. Almost in his mind it seemed that the plashing of the river-currents echoed the falling of the waves upon the shore; a sound he had never heard until the day he had followed the King to capture the ships of the Corsairs, long ago by mortal standards. The watery sounds lulled him, so that he closed his eyes and his head drooped upon his breast. Out along the pathways of elvish dreams he wandered, never quite slipping away into the blackness that is human sleep. Never that. Until … until…
Legolas woke with a start, to the sound of waves crashing onto sand. Before he could formulate the thought, I have been asleep, how is it that I have been asleep after the manner of mortals? he was on his feet, looking up in bewilderment into the crown of broad leaves that now shaded him. He was beneath a palm-tree; he knew it from his visits with King Elessar into Harad and beyond. His hand went to the hilt of his knife, for he carried no bow in these days of safety. Turning lightly about on the balls of his feet, he tried to understand where he was. Backing against the trunk of the palm, he looked uncomprehendingly across a stretch of golden sand, and saw gentle waves breaking within a lagoon, and a tossing sea beyond the reef.
Something buzzed rapidly past his face, and he instinctively struck out with his hand. The thing had gone. Then it buzzed by again, and this time he saw a flash of light. “What …?” he said aloud, and the light flickered back and hovered in front of his nose. A tiny being hung there, a small person of human or perhaps elven form, no longer than his hand. She was gowned in a garment fashioned of two leaves, and tiny wings beat rapidly to hold her in the air. Legolas stared, and the being stared back. A chiming of tiny bells began, and the elf-lord shook his head, sensing that within the sound lay meaning. Yes - it was speech! Using all the power of his elven hearing, he heard the little thing say, “And who are you, you great ugly thing? What do you mean by lying about on my beach, pray?”
“Ill speech for so exquisite a creature,” responded Legolas a little sharply. The minute mouth opened wide and the small one fell almost to the ground as her wings stopped beating. Quick as lightning the elf stooped and caught her on the palm of his hand. Carefully he raised her up to the level of his face again. She stood boldly enough on his hand, staring at him, then spoke again with the same tinkling tone.
“You can hear me!”
“Indeed I can, little one. I am Legolas, an elf of Ithilien in the fair land of Gondor. To whom have I the pleasure of speaking?”
“My name is Tinker Bell, and I’m a fairy of Neverland – and you needn’t come all that polite talk with me, Mr. Legless Elf, it isn’t what I’m used to and I won’t be having it, see!”
So saying, she flicked away into the air and began to circle about Legolas’s head. In spite of this, he tried to answer her politely. “Did you speak of Faery?” he inquired. “That is a mortal name for the Lands to the West – know you then the tales of Tol Eressea, and of Tirion the fair?”
“Can’t say as I do,” retorted the flyer, and abruptly shot away inland between the trees. Legolas saw that within a few hundred yards of the shore, the palm trees gave way to a denser forest, its trees reminiscent of those of his childhood home. He decided that it would be best to follow Tinker Bell, as there was no other recourse open to him. With his keen sight, he could easily keep track of the tiny light as it sped away from him deeper into the forest.
Soon Legolas was travelling once more among trees, but nothing else about his journey was familiar to him. Behind him he could hear the splashing of the waves on the shore, and the sighing of the deeper seas beyond the reef. Ahead of him darted the light that was Tinker Bell, and he held steadfastly to his resolve to follow her. However, after a while he became aware of another sound, louder and more insistent than the voice of the waves or of the wind that sang among the leaves above his head. It was coming from a dense thicket away to his left, and after a hesitant glance back in the direction of the capricious light, he turned away from his path to find the source of the sound. For, he thought, anyone who weeps so bitterly must be in need of succour and comfort.
Soon the elf came to a clearing among the trees, and saw there a strange sight. At the foot of one of the trees lay a mortal child, curled up into a ball and sobbing in a heartbroken way that touched Legolas’s pity. “What ails you, child of Men?” he asked kindly. At once the child leapt to its feet, proving to be a boy of some ten years, dressed in a jerkin and trousers constructed entirely of leaves. He flung himself upright, placed his back against the trunk of the tree and whipped from somewhere a wicked-looking sword, which he pointed at Legolas.
“Keep away, you – you grown-up!” Legolas, bemused, fell back a step or two and raised his hands in the air to show that they were empty.
“I mean you no harm, child. I am Legolas, and I come from a distant land – how distant I am not quite certain. I heard the sound of weeping, and hoped that I might be of assistance.” The boy dragged one leaf-wrapped arm across his eyes, and muttered something barely audible to the effect that he had not been snivelling, not he.
“What’s a leggylass, anyway?” he asked. “I’ve never seen one like it before. What’s wrong with your ears, and why have you got girl’s hair? Wendy used to tie her hair up in strings like that before bedtime. Pretty funny-looking you are, if you ask me.”
Legolas smiled. “I am sorry if my appearance displeases you. I have never seen a b – a young man quite like you before, either. Perhaps you might tell me your name, and then we might become friends, you know. I am certainly in need of a friend, for all here is strange to me and I have no doubt that you can help me a great deal.”
The boy drew himself up proudly, and said, “I’m Peter – Peter Pan. I am the Ruler of Neverland!” Legolas thought it prudent to bow a little at this announcement, which seemed to please Peter, as he put up his sword and came forward to shake the elf by the hand.
This ceremony accomplished, an awkward silence fell. Legolas was about to break it when the boy said, “Come along then!” and plunged into a thicket, so that Legolas had no choice but to follow. The growth of bushes was thick, and they seemed mostly to be of the unpleasantly over-thorned kind, but the elf pressed on, always keeping in sight the small figure ahead. At last they broke through into a clearing, where Legolas was glad to stand upright and ease the strain upon his back. He looked around slowly to see where Peter had brought him.
It was a moderately large clearing in the forest, with only two features of any interest. Almost directly before Legolas stood the crumbling ruin of a small house – so small as to be suitable only for one small person, the elf thought, a child perhaps or one of the Shirefolk, should one of those merry little people find their way to this place. It might once have been painted and adorned, but now stood empty, its door hanging off, its roof fallen in, and the grey tendrils of dead rose suckers clinging loosely to its walls. Legolas turned to Peter, who was regarding him anxiously.
“Is this where you live, Master Pan?” Legolas inquired politely. The boy shook his head.
“Shows how much you know!” he scoffed. “Why, that’s Wendy’s house, as plain as you can see!”
“And does – Wendy live there still?”
Peter turned his back on his visitor abruptly, but Legolas was certain that he had seen the beginnings of fresh tears. Discreetly, he began to explore the clearing, moving towards its other interesting feature, a stand of seven ancient-seeming trees that clustered together at some distance from the abandoned house. Legolas knew where he was with trees, and he became absorbed in the seven, laying his hand courteously upon their gnarled barks, listening to each in turn as the wind sang their tales to him. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the tree that sang the most ancient song, and wished he were back in his familiar and dear Ithilien. When he opened his eyes again, Peter was standing staring up at him, his mouth agape, and Tinker Bell was perched on a low branch of the next tree, her tiny fierce gaze also fixed on the elf.
“What you doing, Leggylass?”
“I am listening to what these trees have to tell me, master Peter. They have stood here a long, long time, and are very wise old trees. They have told me tales of death and sorrow.”
Tinker Bell broke in, “Stuff and taradiddle, Mr Legless! You can’t be talking with trees!”
Legolas smiled, remembering the deep groves of Fangorn and the wisdom of the Ents, the song of summer leaves in Greenwood, the wide brakes of Ithilien. “I assure you, I can indeed,” he said softly.
“You are a funny one, and no mistake,” said Peter. “These is not magic trees, this is just where I live – where me and the boys and Wendy used to live – look!”
He showed Legolas the hole in the trunk of each tree, and how he and those others long ago had been able to drop down the trunks of the aged trees into their secret cave, “The snuggest home you could ever wish for,” the child declared. Legolas was too large to accept Peter’s invitation to visit this home; but he thrust his head as far as possible into the largest of the holes, and peered into the dark with his keen elvish eyes. He was glad to emerge from what smelt and looked to him to be no better than an orc-hole.
“Do you sleep there still?” he asked, and must have let some of his feeling show, for Peter blushed and looked down at his dirty feet.
“It’s very snug,” he insisted.
“Bah!” chimed Tinker Bell.
Legolas was becoming concerned. It seemed to him that he has come somehow to a nearly deserted land where a strange neglected child and a small being of a kind he had never heard of, eked out a miserable existence quite alone. He sat down upon the ground, sitting cross-legged and relaxed, and began to ask questions. At first Peter would not answer, but the elf was patient and gentle and at length the boy sat down and began to respond. Legolas learned that Neverland was an island, that “Me and Tink” lived there alone, but had not always been alone.
“Who once dwelt here with you?”
“The Lost Boys, and Wendy, and the Indians, and the Pirates, and the crocodile.”
“How long ago? Were you an infant when you were abandoned?”
“I ain’t abandoned! I just live here, I told you. I’ve lived here for years and years and years – well, hundreds of ‘em I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Hundreds? But- you are a boy, Master Peter, a mortal child of some ten summers, you seem to me.”
Peter clamped his lips together and refused to say any more. Tinker Bell startled Legolas by landing suddenly upon his right shoulder and beginning to tinkle into his ear.
“”Strue, you know – really and truly, hundreds of years. He forgot to tell you there was some other fairies too, but they all went away. Just the two of us now.”
“But this is dreadful – this is some evil enchantment – a mortal cannot remain a child for hundreds of years! Even we of elven-kind grow into maturity and fullness of life.” He turned to Peter again. “What do you eat, child? How do you keep yourself clean and clothed?”
No answer came, but Legolas could see for himself that the boy did none of these things very well. “Can you not escape the island? Is there no way you could fashion a boat and so come to other lands?”
Still a stubborn silence from Peter. Tinker Bell flew three times around Legolas’s head, buzzing angrily like a furious wasp. “Oh no, not he!” she tinkled. “Not his Lordship Lord Peter of Neverland. He won’t go nowhere, will you, you little silly?”
Legolas realised that Peter was crying again. “Hush, small one,” he said, “you are distressing the boy.” Tinker Bell subsided onto a log and folded her tiny arms. Legolas reached out a hand to the weeping child, and laid it gently on his shoulder. “What troubles you, Peter?”
After several more deep and shuddering sobs, the boy said, “I’m afraid to go – I don’t want to grow up. I don’t want to.”
The elf shook his head. “There is nothing to fear. Once you are free from this enchantment, you may choose your own way of life.”
“But – but then you have to die! I don’t want to die.”
“In my land, we of elven-kind call death the Gift of Men.”
There was a snort from the irrepressible Tinker bell, but Peter looked silently up at Legolas with wonder in his eyes. “Do you? I wish I could go there. Don’t you, Tink? It would be a real adventure to go there!”
Legolas looked around at the clearing, listening again to the mournful song of the trees. Is this why I was brought here – to save this poor child? But how can we return to Ithilien? He sprang lightly to his feet, and held out a hand to Peter. The boy took it and stood, while the fairy shot into the air and began a dizzying dance around them both. “Lead me back, small one, to the tree where we first met, I beg of you.”
Without answering, she shot off across the clearing and Legolas followed, Peter still clutching his hand. Evening was falling, and it was dark under the trees, but the little spark of light led them on. As they went, Legolas could hear the song of the trees swelling behind them, deepening, growing triumphant and glad. At last an end to weeping, he heard them sing.
By the time the little party reached the shore, there were stars in the deepening blue of the sky. They gladdened the heart of Legolas, and as he stood beneath the tree he murmured the name of Elbereth.
“What do we do now,” asked the boy fearfully.
“We go home,” Legolas replied, with more certainty in his voice than in his heart. Then gazing out across the lagoon, he thought he saw a movement, as of some huge swimmer passing gracefully just below the surface. “Water –it is water!” cried the elf, “Lord Ulmo, mighty Ossë, I call upon you now.”
The three travellers stood now with their backs against the palm tree where Legolas had first awoken. Peter gripped the elf’s hand tightly, while Tink sat in the palm of his other hand. “Look, look,” cried Legolas, as a mighty head rose briefly above the waters of the lagoon, and smiling eyes encompassed them. The breath of Ossë swept over them like a mighty breeze, and they fell backward, back and back into darkness, until they landed in a tumbled heap beneath quite another tree.
Joy filled the heart of Legolas Greenleaf as he found himself again by the laughing stream of Ithilien, and amid its fair trees. He looked, and saw that he held the hands of two fair young people – an elven-maid, tall as he and dark of hair, clad in the garb of his own people, and a young man who wore the green of the Rangers of Ithilien. They laughed, sharing his delight, and asked him where they were.
“You are in Ithilien, in the land of Gondor, and here you may make your homes if you will. For there are many wide lands in Middle-Earth, where you may travel at will. Come, I will take you to your peoples, and they shall welcome you. Peter, your name shall now be Sarn, and you, fair maiden, shall be Nelladel. Welcome, thrice welcome, to this green and growing land.”
Together they wandered through the pleasant groves, coming at last to where Faramir the Prince dwelt, and meeting there many fair folk of elven and mortal kind. After an evening of feasting and song, at which Sarn distinguished himself by eating a mighty helping of every kind of food, Legolas came to him and asked what he thought of being grown to manhood.
“I think, Master Elf, that this will be an awfully big adventure!”

Galadriel

In Valinor, Altariel
Thy golden hair entwined the light
Of Laurelin, Telperion,
Ensnaring Feanor’s delight.

Across the bitter grinding ice
To exile in the Middle earth
Thy pride, oh Nerwen, carried thee
Far from the circles of thy birth.

Thou, shining Alatariel,
In Doriath thy dwelling made
And there Celeborn waited thee
Beneath the hidden forest’s shade.

One then by one thy brethren fell,
And Thingol Greycloak following.
Of wanderings thy stories tell
From Lindon unto Evendim.

When evil cast its heavy pall
On time-destroyed Eregion
Laurelindorenan thou sought’st,
And later ruled in Galadhon.

In Rivendell thy daughter fair
With the Half-Elven dwelt at peace
Until by wandering Orcs ensnared
She left thee and her Lord in grief.

And as in Mirkwood evil grew,
Thy courage, Lady of the light,
Stood firm against its crawling reach
And Nenya’s blaze held back the night.

By thee the Fellowship was healed
And given strength to journey on,
By thee Mithrandir’s noble heart
Was succoured for the fight to come.

And when Orodruin was gone
And Estel took his rightful throne
Then over seas and ages long
Thou did'st return to thy first home.

Galadriel, Galadriel,
The shining beauty of thy face
Shall evermore remembered be,
Thy laughter too and slender grace,

For thou hast sought the further shore
And dwellest now in endless bliss
And we may never see thee more
Who linger here in Imladris

Until a ship of grey shall come
And bear us o’er the wide grey sea
To where thou, Artanis, looks’t on
The light immortal endlessly.

It's been a hot minute since I've been in here. I have to say I quite love the Strange Paths story, the dialogue between the three characters as well as the descriptions and reactions to each other and the setting as well as the setting and character changes in 'Peter and Tink' when they make the change back to middle earth.

The Galadriel poem is also quite interesting as well and I quite enjoyed to story of her life put in that format.

@Fuin Elda Many thanks for your comments, kindly made while I was away over the holidays; 'enjoyed' is good to hear and 'loved' is great!

@Aikári Salmarinian I am so glad you are here on the restored Plaza. Thank you for your kind words :)

Harad; a tale of Hope

PART ONE
Journeying towards the west, the sun at last left the courtyard in shadow. On a palm-leaf mat in the coolest niche within the colonnade, Olaro stirred, yawned, opened her eyes. Dreamily she watched the tumbling waters of the fountain at the centre of the square enclosure, until she became aware of the weight pinning down her right arm. She looked at the child and found him still sleeping, one thumb loosely lingering in his pink little mouth, his lashes soft on his deep brown cheeks.
Olaro lay still, letting her mind reach far away, over the rooves of her master’s compound, beyond the oasis, north across the scorching desert toward the unimaginable lands of the north.
Jari, she whispered. Jari. Two circles of the moon had passed since he had marched away, he and all the other able men of their caran, led by the Master on his great white horse. Olaro had asked the Mistress why they had to go, where they were going.
“Hush, girl. You do not need to know. They go, they will come home. You mind your work.”
But when?
Little Karenko wriggled, jiggled, jabbed one elbow and one knee into Olaro’s tenderest parts, and was at once awake, clamouring, jumping, dribbling all over his nursemaid. Olaro stood up, gathered the Little Master into her arms, and carried him to the fountain, where she dabbled his small hands and feet into the basin and scooped up water in her own hand to cool his face. Then she straightened his white tunic over his dark chubby knees, arranged his gold bracelets and anklets and hair-braids as tidily as she could, and stood him on the beaten earth of the courtyard. He wanted to bend down and dig his clean fingers into the soil, but Olaro took him firmly by the hand and marched him towards the colonnade and the door that led from it into his mother’s quarters.

Jari trudged on, and on. His legs and back were aching, his feet were sore in their worn sandals, and his corselet of overlapping bronze plates weighed more heavily with every mile. When they had first set out from the oasis, he and his comrades had marched cheerfully, and even the dry wastes of the great desert had not diminished their spirits. They marched to glory and riches, the Master had told them. He had allied himself with the Strong Lord of the north, who would reward them all richly when his evil enemies were destroyed. One whole cycle of the moon it had taken them to cross the desert, seeking ways along the wadis, detouring to ensure that they passed though all the oases and exploited every source of water.
The journey was hard, but Jari and his fellow marchers had chatted, sung marching songs, camped happily together each evening, and watched in wonder as more and more carans of warriors came in from all directions to join them. Some even rode upon Oliphs; Jari was wary of the huge, blundering beasts. He kept as far away from them as possible. Soon they were a great army, and they marched along a real road, old and broken in places, but once a mighty road. It led them ever northward. The men could see ahead a dark line on the horizon that grew higher and darker with every mile they travelled. Jari asked his brother, Kor, what it signified.
“That is where the mountains lie, Jari. The Strong Lord has his kingdom beyond them. We march to his aid against the evil usurpers from beyond the sea.” Kor had always been the one to listen to the old tales and legends when they were children. Jari was about to ask more about these usurpers when their officer rode back along the line of march, calling out to the men.
“Close up. Close up; there is a river ahead, and the bridge is narrow, form a double line and no wider!” Some of the men were slow, and the officers laid on with their whips until all were in rank. The rhythm of the march picked up again.
It took many hours for the great army to cross the river. Jari had not seen a river before, and he peered down over the edge of the bridge to see the water flowing by. It seemed far clearer than the waters of the oasis where he lived. Kor pushed him on, and they came across into land that was slightly less barren than their familiar desert. Here Jari raised his head for the first time since they had begun the river-crossing; the mountains looked very near. Beyond them he thought he could see a plume of black smoke. He turned to point this out to Kor, but before he could speak a shadow passed across the bright sun, rushing at speed through the highest reaches of the sky. Some looked up, but most cast themselves on their faces. A few tried to run back across the bridge, but the officers got busy with their whips, though they too seemed afraid. The shadow whirled about, far to the south, then came back over them, stooping low. A terrible scream came from it, and men began to wail and howl. Some threw themselves into the river, and Jari saw one disappear beneath the waters. Only when the flying shadow had vanished into the north – towards the smoke, Jari noticed – could the men be persuaded to resume the march. There was a good deal of muttering in the ranks.
That was when Jari had begun to feel weariness, aches and soreness, and to find his armour so heavy and burdensome. Since then he had staggered on silently, and all about him the rest were silent too. In his heart, a secret and deadly fear was growing. What Lord, he wondered, sent out such dreadful messengers? He thought of Olaro far away, and wondered if he would ever see her again.

In the compound, the days drifted by in sameness and expectation. It was a dwelling of women now, save for small boys and aged men who had not marched away. Olaro tended to young Karenko, fed and washed and clothed him, slept with him at noon and at night, and twice a day led him to his mother, who displayed little interest in her offspring. Only one day in every ten did the Mistress allow a brief respite. Olaro, leaving the Young Master in the care of one of the Mistress’s ladies, would spend a mere two hours in the tent of her own family beyond the high mud-brick walls of the master’s stronghold. Karenko would scream and cry and try to run after her, but when the heavy gates swung shut behind her, she was free. She would thread her way between the tents and huts until she came to the edge of the settlement, where the widows lived. Here her mother dwelt, and cared for Olaro’s two small daughters.
One afternoon, siesta past, Olaro made her usual difficult escape from her young charge, and came to the tent of her mother. The two little girls were outside, sitting on the ground and playing some complex game with palm leaves. Olaro stood to watch them unnoticed, and her heart jumped.
My sweet ones – how you grow! And how little I see of your growing.
Just then Sala, the eldest, looked up and squealed, “Mama! Rana, it is our Mama!” Both children leapt to their feet and ran to Olaro, flinging their arms about her knees and shrieking like desert hawks in their excitement. From the tent came Olaro’s mother, Ola, ready to rebuke her noisy granddaughters. Her cross expression changed to a broad smile when she saw her daughter.
“So, it’s you! Come and tell me all the news, we hear nothing out here, nothing. Sala, fetch juice for your mother, and Rana, bring a cushion for her.” Ola seated herself on a low stool by the mouth of her tent, and soon the four were chatting together. The girls were full of questions; when would their father be home? And their uncle? Why were all the men away for so long? Olaro had no answers for them, and in the end the talk became everyday, gossip and shared experiences. Events so far away could scarcely be imagined.

Jari and his companions were treading at that moment through a world of nightmare. To their right rose high black mountains, dry and forbidding, and from beyond them came the persistent black smoke, together with rumbles of something like thunder, and occasional flashes of flame. To their left lay a greener landscape, equally alien to these desert dwellers, dense growths of trees and of lower-growing plants that they could not name. The whole host was restless and uneasy. The Oliphs and horses were almost uncontrollable, hating the smell of the smoke and the narrowing of the way between mountains and woodland. The men had no idea now where they were, how far from home or what the lands were through which they marched; Jari had asked Kor, but his brother’s lore did not extend so far.
This day was worse than before – Jari kept thinking he saw movement in the trees to the left, but when he turned to stare, all was still. He tugged at Kor’s arm.
“We are watched, brother,” he hissed. “Do you not feel it?”
“Hush! You will have the officer here again. Have we not been whipped enough already? Hush!”
Jari subsided obediently; Kor was, after all, the elder brother and head of their family. But still he felt that eyes were following his every step.
Towards noon Jari saw that ahead of them the road vanished into a cleft, where the wooded lands drew near the dark mountains. He was no war leader; but he felt a terrible wrongness as the troops marched unhesitatingly towards that narrow way. He cast a desperate glance behind, filled with an urged to turn and run back down the road, away from the dreadful mountains and the thick forest, back to his familiar desert home and his faraway wife and daughters. Olaro, he moaned softly.
He turned his face forward, still plodding, plodding, and was taken by surprise when his brother beside him let out a sudden exclamation. “Uff!” Kor said, and his hand grasped Jari’s arm. Then all at once he fell, so that Jari stumbled over him and the men behind collided with Jari. “Kor! Kor!” he shouted. Then he saw the great arrow through his brother’s body, green-feathered and sharp. It had pierced a gap between the plates of Kor’s armour, and now his brother lay convulsing, his life pouring out into the dust of this alien road. Jari found that he was sobbing. He knelt down, taking no notice as all round him more men screamed and fell, or screamed and fled, as Oliphs trumpeted and horses galloped away riderless. He lifted Kor into his arms and held him, murmuring softly, meaninglessly, until the convulsions stopped and Kor’s staring eyes emptied. Then he looked around.
The attack was coming from the forest. Arrows flew all around him, strange tall men in green and brown garments wielded swords and knives and were hacking his countrymen to death. Jari sprang up, drew his sword, and began to swing it wildly at the ambushers. He got in one lucky strike, and laid one of the Northerners low. Two more cried out and came running towards him, and he broke away, running furiously along with some of his surviving comrades into the strange lush forest. Stumbling and leaping through the thick leaves underfoot, he suddenly saw a dip in the ground ahead, and resolved to plunge into it and hide. Two things happened at once, then. Jari thought he saw small people in the hollow, round-faced and gaping. Even as he tried to make sense of what he saw, a pain like lightning passed through his neck and he found himself falling. Dimly to his ears came the cry, “Mumak!” Then nothing. Nothing more.

Olaro heard the cries as she was feeding the Little Master his breakfast. “They are coming! They are coming!” Scooping up the child, she went to the window and threw the shutters back. Below in the outer courtyard she saw people gathering, noblewomen and servants, all listening to an old man who had come in through the compound gate, now swinging open behind him. “They are coming!” He repeated. “Come and see.”
Olaro swung around and headed out of the door, down the stairs and into the corridor. Here she met still more people heading for the courtyard, and ran along with them, across the yard and out through the great gate. Through the settlement they went, to the edge of the oasis, and there were all the villagers gathered, gazing northwards. Olaro moved to stand beside her mother and daughters.
“Mama,” whispered little Rana, “is our dada coming home?”
Olaro shook her head, and stared across the desert. There she could see the approaching cloud of dust that had alerted the old man to the approach of a band of travellers. It grew larger as it came nearer. But - -
“This cannot be the caran,” someone said, “the dustcloud is too small.”
Olaro reached out and took her mother’s hand; the older woman looked into her eyes, and said nothing. Sala and Rana pressed against their mother. The noise and excitement in the waiting crowd died away; and the dust drew nearer.









PART TWO

Olaro looked up as a shadow fell across the open patch of ground outside her tent. She scrambled hastily to her feet as she saw that it was The Master, tall and strong in his fine robes.
“No, no, sit, old nurse, sit. You need not stand for your little nursling.” He reached for a second low stool and seated himself, so that she too might sit and rest.
“What does the Master wish?” she asked formally, but there was a lilt of laughter in her voice, and Karenko smiled back at her, his eyes filled with love for the woman who had cared for him all through his childhood.
“What do I always want, Olaro? I want your listening ear, your wise words, your thoughts. Who is a man to trust in these strange new days, if not his dear old nurse?”
This time they both broke into open laughter, and the children playing about the tents paused, astonished to see the great man giggling like a boy with the old widow Olaro. One of them came a little closer, but Olaro shooed him off.
“Keep away, little curious one! Your old amma is not in need of your help; I must speak to the Master.”
The little boy slipped back to his playmates, and soon their chatter arose again. Olaro turned back to Karenko.
“Now, master. What brings you?”
“News from the North, mama –no, I will name you mother, Olaro, for so you were to me. News, I say, from the Great King Elessar of the North, he who caused the Strong Lord to be slain by means of little magic people from beyond the edge of the world. He wishes to come here.”
Olaro pressed her hands over her mouth in astonishment. The Master spoke of legends, of tales from beyond her dreams – and he wanted her thoughts! How could she even have thoughts about this? Karenko watched her expectantly.
“I cannot tell, Master, any thoughts on such great matters as these. Who is this pale King to me, but the Lord of those who slew my Jari and his brother? What thoughts may I hold of him other than thoughts of hatred?”
Karenko nodded. “I know what you have suffered, you and so many women of our people. Yet now this King has ruled for a score of suns, and they say he has spread peacefulness across his own wide lands, and seeks now friendship with those beyond, east and south as far as he may journey.” The young Master shook his head. “These are strange times, when the usurpers from the sea seek friendship.”
Olaro felt tears beginning to burn her eyes. “I cannot speak more of this, Master. My grief will never leave me. I thank all the gods that my daughters have grown strong and found good husbands, I thank them for little Karo there, but I can never do other than hate those who took my Jari from me. I fear I am no help to you, Master.”
Karenko patted her shoulder, and rose. She tried to stand, but he held her firmly on her stool. “I am sorry, mama. I will go and seek the counsel of my advisors, though I wish they had more wisdom to offer.” He set off back towards the inner compound behind its strong walls, pausing to send little Karo to his grandmother to hug and comfort her.

Before a moon had passed, Olaro’s daughter Sala came for a brief visit. She worked as a body-servant to Karenko’s wife Olla, and that young lady’s demands were heavy.
“It is good to see you, mama,” said Sala as she rested herself on a cushion at Olaro’s feet. “Where is my naughty little Karo?”
“You should have told me you were coming; his father has taken him to see the master’s new horses from the south. “
“Oh! How annoying. Why can my lady not let me know when I am to be free, so that I might see my child and my husband and my mama all together? A servant’s life is hard.”
Olaro nodded, and hugged her daughter. “But ours is a good Master – in some settlements there is much cruelty, and people are sold away from their families as slaves. We do not have such bad things here.”
“No, you are right, mama. But I must tell you the news – such grand news I have for you.”
“Go on then, daughter.”
“Well, our master has sent messages in return to those from the northern King, and he in turn has replied again, and – well, in short, mama, they are to come here! This great King and his wondrous Queen and his little Prince and Lords and Ladies and all – to our oasis!”
Olaro shrank away from her daughter, and lowered her head. Sala prattled on for a while until her mother’s silence alerted her.
“What is wrong, mama? What distresses you?”
“They killed your father, Sala. These pale ghosts of men out of the north – what have we to do with them? They killed your father!”
Olaro burst into bitter tears, and it was long before Sala could comfort her. Little Karo came back with his father Tani, and Olaro gradually forgot her sorrow in caring for him; Sala and Tani had to return to their duties. But when it was time to sleep that night, Olaro lay wakeful and tense until the dawn.

After this she tried to forget about the pale King, and no one dared to mention the coming visit to her again. Yet after a few more moons had passed, the day came when there began to be a great stir and bustle about the whole settlement. Servants rushed about the Lord’s house, cleaning and sweeping and polishing; cooks laboured in the great kitchens; widow women from the tents about Olaro’s were drafted in for work they had been spared for many years. Olaro refused to go. She heard that the lady Olla was for beating her because of this refusal, and that the Master had been angry with his wife. She was sorry for that, but she would not lift one finger for the King who bore the blame for Jari’s death. When at last the day dawned on which the master looked to see his guests riding out of the North, Olaro stayed in her tent, and kept little Karo close by her side.

The boy fussed and wriggled and pleaded to be allowed to go with his playmates to watch at the edge of the oasis. Olaro hardened her heart and ignored his wailing. She heard a great shout go up towards evening, but stayed where she was. Then footsteps sounded on the baked earth outside, and the flap of the tent was lifted. Turning, she saw a head and shoulders thrust through the gap.
“Oh!” Olaro sprang up, filled with embarrassment. Karenko said,
“May I come in, mama?”
“Master, Master, it is not fitting for you to enter my poor tent. You should be greeting your guest.”
“He is not here yet – the dust of his journey can be seen. And I would have you with me, mama, when he draws near.”
She shook her head. Little Karo tugged earnestly at her skirts. She shook her head again. The master held out his hand and said quietly, “Please, Olaro – for me.”
Karo scampered eagerly ahead, and Olaro paced slowly; yet all too soon she was standing at almost the same spot where she had waited twenty suns ago, to see the return of the caran and to learn that Jari was dead. Once again, she waited amid her people to watch the approach of a cloud of dust – but this was a mightier cloud by far than that long-ago memory. Gradually it drew nearer, until those waiting could make out riders and marchers approaching. At the front they saw a splendid figure on a great horse, bearing a huge standard of black with silver signs upon it; a tree, seven stars and a great crown. Murmurs began to wash about among the crowd, comments and questions.
“Is that the King?”
“No, foolish one, Kings do not carry their own flags!”
“Which is the King?”
Olaro looked up as the noise of the people around her swelled louder. The advancing party had halted. Two men rode forward, passing by the flagbearer and pausing halfway across the space that now remained between the oasis and the riders. Each raised to his lips a silver trumpet, and blew upon it notes of surpassing sweetness. Cries of wonder and admiration came from the people of Karenko, but Olaro stood silent and still.
The flagbearer urged his mount forward until he was perfectly placed between the two trumpeters. He cried in a mighty voice “Behold the coming of Aragorn the King Elessar, Telcontar, Elendil’s heir of Gondor! The King begs leave to enter your realm, Lord Karenko.”
Loud approval greeted this courteous address, and Karenko stood forth, arrayed in his finest garb, and motioned his own Crier forward. “Karenko Lord bids welcome to his lands the King of the North! Let all now come to greet him!”
Karenko stood waiting while the three foremost horsemen from the North swung their mounts around and filed off to one side, where they wheeled to face across the front of the Gondorian troop. Then from the midst of them came riding on a great black horse the tallest man that any of the people of the oasis had ever seen, taller even than their Lord. He was arrayed in tunic and hose of the finest cloth, all green and silver, and upon his breast blazed a great green stone. A simple coronal of wrought silver graced his brow, and he bore no arms. When he was near enough to Karenko that each might clearly read the other’s face, the King halted his mount, smiled, and spoke.
“My Lord, I offer greeting. I would learn of you and your people and your land.”
Karenko replied, “You are welcome, King.”
Elessar, to the delighted amazement of the oasis folk, swung himself down from his horse and walked toward his host. Ancient he seemed, yet young as morning. His eyes were grey and his skin fair; dark hair tumbled about his shoulders. Never looking away from Karenko’s face, he lowered himself to one knee and said, “I salute the soil of Harad, and her people who live upon it, and her Lord who rules here.”
As he stood, a great shout of approval went up, and Karenko moved to greet the king. The two clasped hands, and their faces were filled with smiles. Olaro’s son-in-law Tani came forward at the Lord’s request to lead the great horse away; then Elessar turned and motioned with his hand, and all his people moved slowly towards the oasis edge. As they came, the ranks parted, and at the great sigh of wonder that arose around her, Olaro looked up to see, riding out ahead of the party, a silver horse and a grey pony. Upon the horse rode the fairest lady Olaro had ever seen, tall and proud, dressed all in white and silver and with her long hair streaming down her back. At her side rode a young boy, a Prince of the north whose face was so like his father’s that none could mistake their kinship. These two came to where the King and Lord stood, and dismounted. Olaro watched for a while as greetings were exchanged, as more and more of the Pale Ones came and were welcomed and handed over their horses; but at last she could bear no more, and stumbled back to her tent. In her sorrow, she forgot even little Karo, and sat unheeding on her stool in the gathering night; her neighbour, seeing this, took Karo into her own place to sleep.
Towards the middle of the night, when the sounds of feasting and merriment were dying away inside the Lord’s compound and the huge stars were filling the velvet sky, Olaro was still sitting miserably, alone with her thoughts outside the tent. She was too absorbed to notice the approaching footfalls, and started when Karenko’s voice said softly, “Mama.”
She began to rise, but he put out his hand to stop her. She realised that there was someone standing behind him, but could not see who it was in the glow of her small fire.
“My Master, you should be with your guests. Do not trouble yourself about me.”
“But I must, Olaro. There is someone here who wishes to speak with you.” Smiling, he turned to his companion, who came forward and said in a sweet, low voice, like water running in a silver fountain,
“Greetings, Olaro.”
A cry escaped her lips as she recognised the northern queen, her white raiment hidden now beneath a dark cloak.
“Lady – Queen – Majesty, I - oh, please, I beg you, take this seat.”
The Queen sat down upon Olaro’s second-best stool as readily as if such were her usual seat. Karenko somehow had vanished. Olaro dared not speak.
“I am Arwen, Queen to Lord Elessar, and known to some as Evenstar.”
“I greet you, my Lady. I – what can you want with me, a poor old nurse?”
Arwen smiled. “Not so poor, I think, for your Lord Karenko bestows upon you a great wealth of love.”
Olaro nodded. “That is true, Queen. But – how did you come to know of me, and to visit me here?”
Arwen leaned forward and laid her hand upon Olaro’s arm. The old woman shook at the gentle touch, wondering at the flow of warmth and calm that passed through her. “I saw at dinner that your master seemed downcast. He looked now and then toward the door, as if expecting one who did not come. When I spoke to him of this, he told me of you, and I sorrowed for your sorrow, and so am come to speak with you.”
Looking into the deeps of light in the Queen’s eyes, Olaro was afraid. Out of her fear welled up the old anger and grief, and she snatched her arm away from the hand that rested on it.
“What can you know of grief and sorrow, great lady? How can you understand the life and loss of one such as I?”
Arwen sat still as stone. She spoke again, her voice even more gentle than before.
“I come to lay at your feet my regret and to bid you forgive us for your husband’s death. For I too have lost many that I loved, and shall not see them again.”
The fury in Olaro’s heart died away as quickly as it had come. She sat spellbound in the moonlight as Arwen told of all that she had lost – of her mother’s pain, and how her mother departed to the eternal lands beyond the sea. Of her father, a mighty lord among those elphan whom Olaro had always believed to be mere tales for children, and how Arwen had bidden him goodbye forever for the love of the King. Tears gathered in her eyes as she listened, and she reached out her hand. The Queen took it, and when she had finished speaking, the two sat handfast for a long time, as the stars wheeled above them and their tears reflected the crystal light of the moon. At last Olaro broke the silence.
“I have found forgiveness in my heart, Queen, thanks to you. Now, I believe it is time for me to attend my Master’s feast, and help him to welcome our new friends.”
Arwen smiled. They rose, and walked toward the compound together hand in hand.

@Aikári Salmarinian

One starry night in Gondor; a tale of Peregrin and Meriadoc

Two guards stood in the Court of the Fountain where the White Tree grew tall. Through the long evening they had been there, watching the passing of the King’s guests through the gate and across the Court as they came to attend the feast in honour of the Periannath. As darkness thickened and the night grew chill, they had not moved or spoken, apart from the steady flicker of their deep grey eyes about the paved and grassed areas, looking at the Tree, the Fountain, the walls, the door into the Tower that led to the Great Hall; always watchful even in this sixty-third year of the King’s peace.

The only reward for their vigilance on this evening of enjoyment had been the emergence from the Hall, some few moments before, of a small figure, no more than half the height of these tall Men of Gondor, and moreover stooped, with age it seemed. Nodding politely to the two Guards, this little figure had crossed the greensward and the paving until he came to the parapet that surrounded the court. Here he stopped, clambered up into an embrasure that gave him a view over the Pelennor and the gleaming Anduin below the stars, and sat down. Soon the two men saw a glimmer of red light and a faint trail of greyness that indicated the Lord Meriadoc of the North Kingdom had ignited his pipe-weed. Solemn as they were, the pair could not refrain from glancing swiftly at each other, faint smiles crossing their faces. Pipe-weed! Surely no King of Gondor before the great Lord Elessar had ever indulged in such strange pastimes – and he had learnt it from these little people.

Then for a long time could be heard nothing but the song of the fountain and the singing of the night-breeze in the branches of the trees. All was still except for the flicker of the torchlight about the court, the answering red gleams in the great mithril helms of the guards, and the drifting smoke from Meriadoc’s pipe. Unnoticed by all save the guards, the small figure remained there even when, with much laughter and merriment, the guests of the King departed. Ever courteous, the King and Queen came forth to the door of the tower to bid farewell to the guests, and by ones and twos and threes the great company set off down the winding ways of the city. Princes and elves, dwarves and noblemen, ladies and damsels all made their obeisances to the royal couple, and departed. Last of all came a second small figure, moving into the circle of lamplight where King Elessar and Queen Undomiel stood. His curly hair flashed silver in the flickering flame, and he spoke familiarly to the King.

“Well, Strider, you’ve done us proud again. If the greatness of your realm were to depend on the quality of the cooking in the Royal kitchen, then it would never be surpassed.”

Again a glance passed between the two guards, and something like a smile. Strider! In all of Middle-Earth, only these two old hobbits addressed the King with such familiarity. And his majesty appeared to enjoy it. Smiling at the speaker, he answered, “Pippin Took, you grow fonder of the pleasures of the table with every year that passes. Now that you are to make your home with us, we shall need to employ a whole army of cooks to ensure your continued satisfaction.”

Before Lord Peregrin could reply, the low sweet voice of the Queen broke in. “Nay, My Lord, it were better that we send at once to the Shire to recruit a dozen or so of Halfling cooks, for none else can hope to meet the fine requirements of our friends.” Then the three laughed together, while answering smiles wreathed the faces of the guards. Who could be solemn on such a night, when the King’s happiness at the coming of his two friends was so deep?

Now Lord Peregrin began to look about him, and spoke to the guards. “Have you seen anything of Merry – Lord Meriadoc, I should say? He left the feast long before any one else but no-one saw where he went.”

“Nay, my Lord, there is no need to fear – he is safe enough. We two have been watching over him; he is yonder on the battlements, enjoying the cool air and the stars of Gondor.”

With a bow to the King and Queen, who withdrew into the tower, and a nod to the guards, Peregrin set off across the court, enjoying the feel of the cool marble slabs and then the softness of the grass upon his bare hobbit toes. Simple pleasures were still the best, he reflected, however old one became. Reaching the battlements, he paused, and looked up at his old friend, who had not moved or shown any sign of noticing Peregrin’s approach. He stared out over the Pelennor, his back turned to the tower and the court, and Peregrin thought he heard a soft sigh escape Meriadoc’s lips.

”Merry old chap,” he said softly, “is there anything I can do?"

Meriadoc turned, and in the silver starlight Peregrin saw the trail of tears on his old friend’s face. “It was hard to say goodbye, Pippin, very hard.”

Peregrin clambered up to sit beside Meriadoc, and put one arm around his shoulders. They sat together for a while in silence. At last Peregrin said, “Sitting here under the stars it seems as if one can feel the world turning, Merry. And it turns on and on and leaves so much behind, all that we have seen, all those we have known, all the stories we have heard. And there will only be a few mores turns for us, old friend.”

“O, Pip! That is just what I was thinking. How can it be sixty years and three since I wept by Theoden’s mound? And now they have started a new line of mounds, and Eomer, Eomer who is in my mind ever young and strong and brave, lies beneath it! Where are all the years, Pippin?”

“The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?”

Meriadoc sadly chanted his reply, and as he sang they both seemed to see before them the host of the Rohirrim, proud and strong in the morning of the King’s return. Across the court the guards heard the lament, and felt their hearts stir within them, remembering the dark years the world had passed through to come to these days of peace.

The two hobbits rose, a little stiffly, from their seats high above the plain, and turning away from the view across the lands, they came down into the court again. Hand in hand like two children they wandered over to the White Tree, where they stood looking up into its fair branches.

“When we were naughty little children, long ago in the quiet of the Shire, I never though there were places like this, or any places different from the Shire itself. I certainly never imagined, Merry, that we would travel the long roads we have travelled or sit among the company we have known. And in our wildest dreams, we would not have imagined we would end our days in the company of Kings.”

At this one of the guards spoke out boldly. “Dear Lords, do not speak words of ill-omen! Many years ye have before ye in the bliss of the King’s company, and in the care of the Queen.”

“Bergil!” both the hobbits cried out at once, and gladness was in their voices. “I did not recognise you there,” added Peregrin. The two crossed to Bergil’s side, and took him by the hand in turn. For a while the old friends spoke together of memories and of lost friends. Then at last Meriadoc and Peregrin turned towards the door into the tower.

“Goodnight, brave Bergil! May you and your comrade have a still watch for the rest of the night,” cried Merry. “We shall sleep the sounder for knowing you are guarding us,” Pippin laughed. “And however long or short our years now may be, we are glad to be passing them in Gondor, for of all the realms of Middle-Earth this is now the fairest to us, and the greater part of our friends and loved ones dwell here or may be found here at whiles. So peace to you both, good guards, and goodnight.”

They walked on together until they passed beyond the sight of the two guards; and still silence returned to the Court of the Fountain, save for the eternal voices of the falling waters, and the whispering leaves.

The Last Ringbearer

“Come away, Dad, do. There’s nothing more we can do here.” Robin Gamgee tugged anxiously at his father’s arm, but Sam remained still, silent, gazing down at the mound of fresh-heaped earth at his feet.
Robin looked up at his brothers and sisters standing round. Most were weeping, but Elanor stood dry-eyed, looking at her father. Her golden hair shone, reflecting the darts of sunlight that pierced intermittently the shadow of the Mallorn branches. Rose Gamgee had been laid to rest beneath that tree, the gift of Galadriel.
Elanor moved suddenly, and the group of mourners, who had seemed frozen in their places in sympathy with their father’s immobility, began to stir too. “Come along, Dad, come into the Hole, please,” begged Elanor. She looked around for her husband, and Fastred came to stand with her. Together they urged the older Hobbit away from Rosie’s grave. But a great sob burst from Sam, and he pulled free of their guiding hands.
“Rosie-lass, my Rosie!” he cried, and tears flowed freely down his lined face. “Oh Rosie, why have you gone without me?”
At last his family managed to guide him towards Bag End, and Elanor sent her daughters ahead to boil up the kettles and make tea. Sam stumbled between his helpers, as if blind and lame. He was muttering to himself now, and his grandson Elfstan let out a stifled exclamation that brought his mother’s eye on him.
“Sssh now, let your Granddad be.”
“But Mum – I mean Mother – I mean – did you hear what Granddad said?”
Elanor waved him off and would not listen to him until all the family - all who were there at the burial, that is – were inside, and her father was seated in his comfortable chair by the fire, a cup of tea at his elbow. While everyone applied themselves to toast and jam and cake, and several grandchildren tried to encourage Sam to taste some of his favourite dainties, Elanor led Elfstan aside.
“Now, son, what did you mean? I am sorry to shush you as I did, but I had no desire to see your Granddad further upset.”
Elfstan nodded, and tears sprang to his own eyes. “Poor Granddad! It seems dreadful without Granny, mother!”
“And so it is, dear.” Elanor wiped the youngster’s tears – he was still in his Tweens, after all – and urged him to speak up.
“Well – it is what I heard, mother, though I cannot believe it. Granddad said, soft and low but I heard him plain enough, he said, ‘The day is done, and farewell to the stars.’”
“Oh!” Elanor sat down on the nearest chair, and looked across the room to where Sam now sat, staring into the fire, a piece of untasted toast in his hand and a cooling cup of tea on his side-table. “Oh, Dad.”


The summer of the 61st year of the Fourth Age was heavy with unspent thunder and shadowed with unyielding clouds. The Fairbairns stayed for a couple of weeks at Bag End with Sam, but after that Elanor began to long for her own home, and for the sight of the Downs rearing up away beyond her window. She asked Sam to come with them, but could not persuade him.
“No, no, you be off my dear, I am happy enough here for a while.” He laid his hand on the volumes of the Red Book that stood in their accustomed place beside him, always within reach. “I have young Frodo here, and he shall have Bag End after I am gone” – he waved away the protesting noises this remark brought – “I shall be along to see you all one of these days soon, don’t you worry.”
Elanor was worried, none the less. Still she and Fastred and Elfstan and the other children packed up their bags and loaded their wagon and made themselves ready for home. Only Elfstan clung to his grandfather at parting, and wept. “Granddad, Granddad.”
“Don’t take on so, me dear,” said Sam, patting his curly head kindly. “Why, I have promised to come over there and see you all, have I not?”
Elfstan looked up then, his sobbing quieted, and he spoke low so that only Sam could hear him.
“But Granddad – is it really true that the day is done?”
Sam started, and clutched at the youngster’s arm. “Who’s said that to you?”
“You said it, Granddad, not to me but I couldn’t help hearing, and I remembered the Red Book stories, and it sounded – wrong, Granddad.”
Sam smiled, and drew his grandson into his arms. “Tis not done yet, my deary – but 'tis drawing near.”
He would say no more, and Elanor came to hug her father and to give instructions to Frodo Gardner, her brother, about how Dad would like things done, and to bundle the last-minute luggage and young hobbits into the wagon. Soon they were heading away over the Water, planning to pass Bywater and meet up with the East Road after a brief stop to see Cotton’s farm once more. Sam waved to them until they were out of sight, then turned to grin at his son Frodo.
“Well lad – now we shall have some peace for a bit.” They went into the garden together, and set to work.

Summer thickened slowly into autumn, bringing some breaks in the clouds over the Shire, and a few fair days. Winter was deep and bleak that year, and Sam spent many days indoors, reading in the Red Book. As the blue skies of spring opened up above the Shire, one by one the golden leaves of Mallorn fell to rest upon Rosie Gamgee’s grave-mound, and whatever wind or breeze came by, there they lay, a golden coverlet in honour of the hobbit-woman who slept beneath. Sam went twice daily, morning and evening, to stand beside his wife, hat in hand and his grey-curled head bowed in silence. For a while Frodo Gardner came too, but gradually began to excuse himself because of the many tasks that the new season brought – digging and planting, and hobbit-children to shoo away from Bag End’s new-seeded vegetable patches. Sam did not mind; he was proud of his strong son, who bore the name of his dear lost master and whose broad hands brought wealth from the rich soil of the Shire. He was happy standing alone beside his Rosie.
Then one night in mid-April the great storm that seemed to have been building all through the winter suddenly broke. Black clouds came up from the west, like fleets of Corsair ships, Sam thought. All across the Shire the hobbits battened themselves down in their holes and little houses. The beasts stood lowing and bleating unhappily in byre and field, as the clouds rumbled above them and the spears of lightening began to flash through the gloom. Then it came at last – the rain long-expected, like cataracts out of the sky. Sam and Frodo Gardner looked out of the round windows of Bag End to watch the storm, and saw the paths and roadways of the Hill flowing like small rivers, on and on down into the Water and off to Bywater Pool.
“”Twill overflow, that Pool, Dad – we shall have floods for sure.”
Sam nodded. “You know, son, ‘tis just as Mr. Bilbo used to say about Roads. These little streams flowing into the Water, and the Water off away south, and all the rivers and streams into one another, Brandywine and Bruinen, Anduin and Greyflood – all flowing together into the Sea at last.”
Frodo looked sharply at his old Dad – there was that dreaminess in his voice again, that Old Granfer Gamgee used to tell his grandchildren about. “Always a dreamer, your Dad,” he used to say.
“Come on Dad – let’s draw some beer and sit cosy by the fire,” said Frodo, shuttering the windows and drawing curtains over the shutters too. Sam came willingly enough, and they had a merry evening’s talk by the bright fire – the fire where Gandalf the Wizard had once tested the Ring, though Sam did not mention this to his son. They talked instead of the land, of Sam’s other children and his grandchildren, and of Frodo’s plans for the summer. They went peacefully to bed as the winds and rain and thunder began to die away.

The next morning Frodo Gardner woke early, but found that his father was up before him. Sam was finishing his breakfast in the parlour, and piled beside him were several bags and bundles.
“Dad! What are you doing? Don’t say you are going off, just like that with never a word!”
“Not without a word, my dear son. I have been up a while, Frodo, and been to visit your mother. Do you know, after all that storm the Golden Leaves are still there, covering her as soft as satin on a baby’s cradle. That’s the Lady, Frodo; she has done this for Rosie. I know I can leave her safely here with you, Son.”
Frodo sat down across the table and looked into his Dad’s face. There it was still, the dreaming look. “Where are you going, Dad? Will you – will you come back again?”
Sam reached across and took his son’s hand. “Well, me dear, first off I’m going to see Elanor – here in this bundle is some things for her to keep.”
Frodo looked about the room, and gasped. “Dad! The Red Books – you are never taking those away!”
“Well, yes Frodo me dear. Don’t be vexed, but they are better off with Elanor. You are a worker of the soil, first and foremost, you have your Granfer’s skills in that. And I leave Bag End safe with you, I know. Elanor, and young Elfstan – why, they will know just how to care for these books and add to them over the years too, no doubt.”
Frodo nodded. “That’s right Dad, they will. But you talk as if you are going away forever, not just for a visit to Undertowers.”
Sam leaned back and fiddled with the business of lighting a pipe of Longbottom leaf, saying nothing until it was sending up smoke at a good rate. “I had a dream last night, Son. I’m not much of a one for dreams, but I knew this one, because Master Frodo - well he had it too. He told me about it often enough those last years before he went away. There was rain in it, like we had last night, but when it drew away there was a wide fair land such as I have never seen in all my journeyings, Son. Green and silver and filled with music, and I knew they were there, Mr Frodo and old Mr. Bilbo, and the Lady, Son, the Lady standing bright and golden as a Mallorn herself.”
Silence fell in the old parlour, except for the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
“And that’s where you are going, Dad?”
Sam nodded.

At the door of Elanor’s house in Undertowers the whole household was gathered, and a noise arose such as could only be produced by a hobbit family in a confloption. Children and grandchildren were pressing gifts upon Sam, all of which he politely but firmly refused. Some were weeping and some were silent, some were shouting and others whispered. In the midst of it all Sam stood, steady as a rock, receiving and giving out hugs and kisses.
“Dad, Dad, won’t you change your mind and stay here with us? Why must you go off in this way?”
Sam held Elanor close, and said, “My dear, my dear, we had all this out last night, and believe me I know how it looks to you. But I’ve no more choice than Mr. Frodo had, bless him. I hear voices calling me, Elanor dear, and I have to answer them. You would not have me stay to dwindle away into misery, my dear?”
Elanor shook her head, tears trickling down her cheeks and off the end of her shapely nose. “No Dad – no.”
A little apart from all this welter of emotion stood two sturdy ponies, with young Elfstan holding them by the headstalls. The harness of each was polished to perfection, and over the shoulders of one a pair of fine saddlebags held the small amount of gear that Sam had been persuaded to take with him. Slowly the old hobbit managed to make his way in that direction, a tumble of children and others crowding after him. He nodded to Elfstan. “All ready, me dear?”
“Yes Granddad, just as you said. Here is Bill XI for you to ride, and my pony is called Fatty Lumpkin – we always have one called that, too.”
Sam patted the lad’s cheek, and swung himself up onto Bill without a trace of the hesitation he had felt in his youth. Elfstan was mounted too, and a sudden hush fell on the assembly. “Well, I’m off. Take care of yourselves, my dears, and never forget me. Have a care to those books, and see that the stories of what we saw and did, and what Mr. Bilbo learned from the elves, is never lost, do you hear?” Everyone nodded. “Goodbye then,” said Sam awkwardly, and wheeled his pony before anyone could stop him. Off along the road he galloped, and Elfstan had to spur Lumpkin to a heroic effort to catch up. Behind the travellers, the household stood gazing into the West long after the dust of the ponies’ hooves had settled.

Once out of sight of Undertowers, the riders slowed their pace to make their way through the Tower Hills. Elfstan gazed up at the Towers in wonder - they had dominated his childhood, but he never tired of hearing his Granddad speak of them, telling him bits of Lore that he had gleaned from ‘Old Mr. Bilbo’ when he had been a hobbit-lad. They did not speak only of elves and of ages past, but also of the quiet lands of the Shire, of family and friends, and Elfstan was so beguiled by his Grandfather’s silver tongue that the sound and scent of the sea came upon him as a sudden shock. Raising his eyes, he looked ahead and saw the Havens, the mighty mansions of the elves of old, grey as mountains and high as the sky. “Oh, Granddad! We are there!”
Sam said nothing, and the two urged their ponies forward until they were clopping over paving-stones that had been laid before the Shire was founded, along winding lanes and straight avenues, down, down to the quays. Here the grey sea lapped endlessly against the mighty stones, and the voices of elves long departed seemed to issue from the bills of the swooping gulls. The two hobbits dismounted and tied up the ponies, then moved to stand on the very brink of the quay.
“There’s no elves here, and no boats! You’d best come home with me, Granddad,” said Elfstan fearfully. For answer, Sam pointed downwards. There, riding up and down with the swell, a boat was tethered. Elfstan cried out, “Granddad! You can’t go across the sea in that!”
A small grey boat it was, light-built and flimsy looking. Sam smiled reminiscently and patted Elfstan’s shoulder. “It won’t sink, lad – I’ll come to no harm in that, for I have travelled in such before. She has sent it, the lady, and she won’t let me drown, not now. It is time for me to go, my dear.”
Elfstan wept bitterly in spite of Sam’s encouraging words, as they shared their last embrace. Then Sam scrambled down a rope ladder to the boat, and as soon as he was seated the vessel sped off down the Gulf of Lune towards the open sea. As it went, Elfstan heard his grandfather’s voice one last time, calling; “My day here is done lad – but don’t you never bid the stars farewell – you hear?”

Elfstan reached home the next day, after a lonely night’s camp near the Havens. They all came out to meet him, and eager hands led the ponies away to the stable. Elanor looked at her son.
“Well, he’s gone,” Elfstan said.

Well I remember the story about Harad and the one about the Last Ring bearer from before the great blip of '2. I love the play of perspectives in terms of an answer to Faramir's question about if the man from Harad was truly evil. And the character building after the war with Arwen love the depth of it.

And once again (honestly @Saranna I feel like you could write about frogs and talking foxes and make me cry with how you write) despite this being I think my third time reading through the last Ringbearer... The One Starry night in Gondor story also had the water works going though not nearly as the other - I think perhaps it is because there is still hobbit spryness and tomfoolery in those two despite their age - the light hearted exchange about armies of cooks or a half dozen hobbit chefs possibly helped with lifting that where the last ringbearer was thoroughly solemn.

@Fuin Elda Well you've got your own back my dear since your kind words of praise, and above all enjoyment, have made me sniffle in return.

So glad you like them, that's the main point of any writing, that it speaks to someone.

real elvish fairy story, @Saranna. beautiful.

@Chrysophylax Dives “The praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards.”

I'd forgotten this one: hope you like it.

Lathspela: Grima Wormtongue’s muddy dreams

Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey;
Come not within the Dark Lord’s shadowed realm;
Come not where evil’s swarming servants stray;
Nor to the lands where bold Isildur fell.
Avoid the blustering sky that hints at hope;
Avoid the grasslands stretching out of sight;
Avoid the gleaming horses where they lope
Over the meads to vanish in the night.
A cage, a cage shall be thy future home;
And I thy loving jailer, sweetest maid;
A cage shall see that thou shalt never roam
Away from me, once my last move is played.

Yet Eowyn now dwells in freedom’s light
And mighty deeds to following years shine bright.

I've been remiss about visiting and commenting in more Cottage threads, my sincerest apologies! I loved the works the first time around(or was it technically the second time?) and reading them all over again makes me smile, especially your retelling of the War of the Ring in simple verse. You write with such warm familiarity that it's impossible not to like.

And Lathspela! what a beautiful and nasty piece, you really encapsulates the clammy creepiness that is Grima

@Zeal & Ardor Thank you for such a kind comment, it's made me smile :)