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Search Results for: "Hall of fire"

The Great Hall of Poets – January 2016

The Grand Tales of Middle-Earth

by L. Lybarger

In times past, journeys unexpected unraveled
and a curious company of folk traveled
across the lands, in the face of ruination
to reclaim their home once plagued with desolation.
A battle, there was, great clashing forces
fire and death was seen, but the weary travelers held their course.
A great dragon, Smaug, was slain, unexpectedly by a mere human,
and a clash of forces ensued amongst many lusting for treasure, honor-dooming.
The dying king under the mountain sought to repent
and his remaining riches thereafter were well spent,
gifted to the brave, so as to gesture apology to all those he caused pain;
and so ends the tale of Thorin, grandson of Thror, son of Thrain.

There were many meetings, and many a friend made,
but then to rest, those times were laid.
O’er lands a new fellowship traversed, a group unusually diverse
and though in times past they had qualms, at journey’s end their company dispersed.
For every last goodbye was said,
and reminiscent tears were shed,
in remembrance of those unexpected heroes who smote down the evils of old,
and made way for the new world, for all to behold.
The corrupt one, blemishing the goodwill of the throne, the steward,
upon the battlements of Minas Tirith was skewered.
Since that day, no person had to stoop; nay, save before the hobbit saviors,
those who laid their lives over the course of those many long years
so that the lords of the two towers would be brought low,
and that the return of the king to his rightful throne be made known.
Commit to memory the story of how the hobbits delved
deep into the Misty Mountains, Cirith Ungol, and the forest Fangorn, home of ent and elves.
Ne’er forget the resounding sorrowful cries, at the untimely fate of Gandalf
as he fought up winding stairs, Glamdring scoring Durin’s Bane with devastating aftermath.
Lest we forget the horrors of Saruman as he sought to abuse the powers of the Palantír
and slowly fell to corruption from Sauron’s power, however sheer.
Remember the valiant mustering and ride of the Rohirrim,
answering to the call of the king whose mind, by Gandalf, was made sane again.
Think fondly of the valiance of Aragorn,
descendant of the line of the throne, who under Andúril, united the armies of Gondor.
Recall the treachery of the giant spiders, spawn of Ungoliant, that our dear hobbits sparred,
and of the ancient marshes who, by the War of the Ring, were marred.
Remember the shear horror wrought upon all by minions of Minas Morgul
and the shrieks of the wretched Nazgûl, of their fell beasts, so very cruel.
Savor the memory of the glorious ride of Gandalf the White, no longer gray

as he and the company of heroes charged forth into battle, swords gleaming bright as day,
accompanied by cries of “DEATH!!!, DEATH!!!, DEATH!!!”,
and bless that few that day expired in vain, nor wasted their breath.
For Frodo, so very small
whose wound from Weathertop could not be borne at all,
was carried by Sam Gamgee up Mount Doom.
Think fondly of Frodo, a hero with a heart of hearts, whom,
alongside Master Gamgee, played a glorious part
in ruining Sauron’s devious plans, triumphantly thwarted.
I will not say “Do not weep”, for not all tears are an evil
especially those wept for lives of heroes spent in the wake of darkness’ upheaval.
Shed them as you think back to Sam’s cry of “I can’t carry it for you, but I CAN CARRY YOU!”,
to the place where the raging fire ever-grew.
Gollum stole the ring, clinging to Frodo’s back,
but still the One Ring to rule them all would be cast into the great fiery Crack.
You may not know that greater powers were at play
for no mere mistake sent Sméagol, or rather, the insipid Gollum, into fire, hot as day.
Yes, indeed, some believe Eru Ilúvatar was the source of his fate,
the deity of great power to who all praise should have been made.

Forgo your regret, stay your sorrow, for the journey has yet to end,
and say to thyself “Hark, my heart, you need only time to mend”.
Remember, friends, to all whose time has passed,
in the far western lands of Middle-Earth, beyond even the Shire, time moves ever fast;
in a land where white shores, and beyond, host a far-green country under a swift sunrise…
all of this, one great paradise…
Realize that the journey doesn’t end here….
Death is just another path, one all must take, and for some it is very near….
The grey rain-curtain of the world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it…
All of your dearest friends, faces alit,
beneath the party tree in the Shire they sit,
enjoying a pipe, sharing a pint with Mr. Tolkien himself, where all worries and troubles are quit.

~~ * ~~

Frodo’s Quest

by: Anonymous

Oh, Bilbo Baggins once did tell
’bout his adventures (he told them well)
Went many places—Rivendell!
Many places that he visited.

He wrote of swords and elven kings
Of fire-drakes and magic rings
And many, many other things
That he once had seen.

But quite a while later, in a land called Shire
There was another little hobbit that we all admire.

Bilbo’s nephew, his name was Frodo B.
He lived with Bilbo in a hole (as you can plainly see).

He had interest in adventures (not much at all like his kin)
And he had a friend named Fatty (yes, who was not very thin).
On his and Bilbo’s birthday, they had a celebration
And ev’ryone from miles came—the whole wide Shire nation!

Gandalf, the wizard, came to help with the long-expected party
Fireworks were brought by him—he was feeling rather jolly.

Bilbo knew it was time to leave, and so slipped on his ring
Gandalf didn’t disapprove but hid the use of bling.

When B. departed, his baggish home was left to one certain Frodo
And Frodo learned, because his ring, though he was loathe to go
He must depart for Rivendell as Uncle did before
To bear the object through anything including peace and war/

He took three friends, and their nicknames were Sam, Pippin, Merry
They set off to visit the Elves, to the homely house in the valley.

Through a forest, stuck in a tree
Old Tom saved them, yes, Tom, and he
was the master of that old wood
He cared for the hobbits, as he should

Swords, they gained, from Barrow-wights
And after just a few long nights
They arrived at the village of Bree.

The Prancing Pony the hobbits sought
Gandalf said, Mr. Frodo thought
Lord Aragorn inside they met
And the bartender wasn’t roasted yet

Aragorn (they called him Strider)
led hobbits through the fields and mire
And made their camp at Weathertop
Though afterwards they thought it glop
‘Cause Frodo’s shoulder there was stabbed.
The Witch-king’s Morgul Blade it jabbed.
Frodo was hurt, he almost died;
Sam and the others almost cried.

Finally they arrived at Rivendell
And after being put through hell
They, for once, got to rest well
And forget about their troubles.

People came from many places
And they were all of diverse races.
Hobbits, elves, dwarves, men
They most certainly were not kin.
They held a council, very slow
It took fore’er for them to go.
When they finished, the final count
Was nine companions to see it out.
They’d take the Ring to Mordor
and destroy that ring (this time for sure).
Sauron then would not survive
And the free-peoples would revive.

Through the Pass of Caradhras they left to go
But were blocked by a lot of snow.
Caradhras brushed them away like a bug on his knee
So they chose to instead take an underground journey.

In that excursion they lost one of their members,
Gandalf the Wizard died from more than just embers.
A Balrog it’s called, a great fire-demon;
Gandalf fell fighting, his Glam-sword a-gleaming.
The remaining Co. ran to Lothlórien
They stayed for a while, just mourning-in.
They left, with great gifts, down the Anduin they went
They found lots of water and gifts Saruman sent.

These aforementioned gifts just happened to be
The fighting Uruk-hai—more than two eyes could see!
The Fellowship was split and Boromir was slain
Frodo, he left, feeling much pain.

Sam and he departed, set out for the Black Land
The will of the Ring often was hard to stand
The hobbits, eventually, ran into Sméagol,
A disgusting ex-hobbit who killed his friend Déagol.
His lust for the Ring was so very strong,
He spent his years searching for it, all the day long.
Frodo Baggins, a brave little hobbit, convinced him
To take them to wher’er he asked ‘im.
Sméagol (Gollum) led them to a million mile-long wall
That didn’t work; they tried Cirith Ungol.
While Gollum told them, he inwardly chuckled with glee:
“First the Straight Stair, then the Winding Stair, then we’ll see.”

The “we’ll see”, hobbits learned, was a rather large spider,
She didn’t yet know that ol’ Sam was a fighter.
She stung Mr Frodo, Sam returned the attack.
A Elbereth, Gilthoniel! was what he yelled back.
He saved Mr Frodo, and onward they went,
They kept moving forward though their energy spent.
On the slopes of Mount Doom Gollum returned;
Want for the Ring was energy never burned.
Sam fought him off while Frodo went on;
Their last bit of strength was just about gone.
Frodo stood at the Crack, the Ring in his hand
“This ring is mine!” is just what he said.
He slipped it on and then disappeared
Gollum fought him, all without fear.

Gollum bit off Frodo’s finger and fell into the lava
“My precious!” he screamed. “I want my mama!”
Samwise and Frodo greatly missed the Shire
They sat there and watched as the Ring died in fire

Eagles came in, found them right where they lay
“I am glad to see you guys,” said Gandalf the Grey.
But grey he was not! Gandalf had come back!
His color was changed; Saruman out of whack.

Sam and Frodo went home, back to Hobbiton.
My adventures, thought Sam, have only begun.
My wounds are too deep, Sam. I can’t live with this sun.
Frodo left his friends for the Havens.
The others simply met all their cravings
They still had hope, and a long life to live.
So they had to learn not to forget but forgive
Frodo leaving them. He had a rough adventure.

~~* ~~

Posted in

The Great Hall of Poets

BilboReadingWelcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular monthly feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. Each month we will feature a small selection of the poems submitted, but we hope you will read all of the poems that we have received here in our Great Hall of Poets.

So come and join us by the hearth and enjoy!

If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net  One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors. (more…)

Posted in Creations, Fans, Lord of the Rings, Poetry, TheOneRing.net Community

The Great Hall of Poets – September 2015

The Battle of the Hornburg

by: Lydwina Marie

The rain fell hard and heavy,
the tramping of feet was steady.
Upon the wall the men stood firm,
not yielding, brave and tall.

From the dark sky there came a rain
of glittering arrows; ‘twas the Orc bane!
But there flew a return of dark, barbed shafts
and men fell that day that should have lived.

Aragorn Elessar stood beside the King
upon the Tower; his face was grim.
The outlook was grim indeed that day
for the Orcs were many, and they were few.

A hail of dark arrows flew from the wall,
descending upon the Orcs from walls tall:
The Orcs could not stand against such a storm
yet the battle had only just begun.

A flash of fire cut through the night:
the Deeping Wall burst: dire, Men’s plight!
Now indeed their forces were few
but as of yet they were not through.

Now grim intent lay in their face
and determined was their fast pace.
They would return the blow
though too late, perhaps, it seemed.

Éomer, the King’s son, stood with Aragorn;
their hearts with love for friends was torn:
But together their swords glittered,
unsheathing in moon’s bright gleam.

Together they ran, swift as wind,
that flies between swaying trees.
Towards the charging Orcs
to their midst, where evil lurks.

A shadow rose, cast itself upon the Prince,
and Éomer fell upon the stones:
But the deed was not ended, for behold:
Gimli, Glóin’s son, with his axe so cold.

Thrice it gleamed, blood then flowed
and Éomer arose, his blade glowed;
And then threw himself upon the horde
of Orcs that stood upon Hornburg’s road.

Now the Orcs felt fear, and back they swayed
and continued not Hornburg’s raid:
But retreated, chased by Elessar’s heir;
‘twas Aragorn, strong and tall!

Aragorn of Gondor stood upon the wall,
Andúril in hand, firm and tall!
“Back!” his clear voice commanded.
“For now comes the dawn of day!”

The Orc hordes swayed:
the Sun was rising o’er mountain glade!
And from the peak of the mountains came
Gandalf the White and Erkenbrand the Fair!

Wielding spear and bow, they galloped down
and upon the Orcs Fangorn frowned!
It opened wide to enclose them within,
never more to reappear by land or sea.

So the Battle of the Hornburg ended at last,
as great as any battles fought long past.
Rohan was freed of Saruman’s sway,
but many also had been slain.

Victory is never without much cost;
and so it was with the Rohirrim.
Many who were not meant to die
were slain, and upon that bloody field they lay.

Posted in

The Great Hall of Poets

AragornReading_RevWelcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular monthly feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. Each month we will feature a small selection of the poems submitted, but we hope you will read all of the poems that we have received here in our Great Hall of Poets.

So come and join us by the hearth and enjoy!

If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net
One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.

(more…)

Posted in Creations, Fans, Poetry

The Great Hall of Poets – July 2015

 

MEMORIES

by: Bracegirdle

I sit before the keyboard
and ponder long-gone youth,
When clouds were shaped like Oliphaunts
or even Wargs forsooth.
With innocence we’d whirl ‘til tipsy
and dance our Springle-ring,
Or jostle and joust atop Erebor
to be the Mountain’s King.

Upon our Egladil we’d rest
and heed the songbird’s trill:
Here Angle’s End waved meadow-grass
and pale-green Niphredil.
Then: “Tag! You’re it!” was a delight,
but moreso Hide-n-Seek:
We’d duck behind a Mallorn Tree
or crouch in Cavern Deep.

As I sit before the keyboard
I relive my Bagshot Row:
We’d climb up Old Man Willow
and watch the Big Folk down below.
From the branches of our Ent-house
we held Councils of the Wise,
While the Master of the Hall held forth
Great Music we’d devise.

Alone we’d play ‘til dusk each day,
our Gammers had no Dragon-fear:
Then Varda’s Lights would shimmer bright
while Eärendil above shone clear.
At twilight blossomed fireflies,
they’d flitter to-and-fro;
Bewitched with Crystal Phial-full
we’d watch the Elven-glow.

We thought those Free Fair days would last,
foresaw no Gift of Men.
Yet fate on life’s Great Journey
takes trails we cannot ken:
And our Wandering Days of growth
bring new friends of great worth,
As those Hidden Paths have brought us
Fellowship in Middle-earth.

~~ * ~~

Posted in

The Great Hall of Poets

BoromirReadingYeats_RevWelcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular monthly feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. Each month we will feature a small selection of the poems submitted, but we hope you will read all of the poems that we have received here in our Great Hall of Poets.

So come and join us by the hearth and enjoy!

If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net
One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.

(more…)

Posted in Creations, Fans, Headlines, Poetry

The Great Hall of Poets – June 2015

Silver Trumpets

by: Brianna B.

A city of white,
And a courtyard of stone
The great tree of kings,
Trumpets calling them home.

Boromir, son of Gondor
He fights for the city of kings,
Her freedom and safety is his one desire
His voice on the battlefield rings.

Hear them calling? The great silver trumpets
Calling their Captain, their lord
The one who they fought for, the one who they died for,
Alas! For the wish of his life he’ll have no reward.

He’d lead them in battle, and alway they’d follow,
To whatever end they’ll fight
His greatest wish to see Gondor restored,
He’ll give his strength, his valor, his life.

That great desire was what betrayed him,
To see his people safe,
He loves fiercely, he’ll guard to to the end
The orcs fleeing to Mordor he’ll send.

With shadows long upon the ground
Who will now the trumpets sound?
Who will now his people lead
To what voice will they now heed.

Alas the Son of Gondor
Has met a bitter end
He kept his honor and fought bravely,
But who will now his father send?

Who will lead the armies,
And who will fight the war?
Alas! For Gondor’s lost her captain;
Across the stormy shore.

The tower guard is waiting,
Upon the pearly walls
A brother grieves, a father weeps,
Inside the ancient halls.

They heard the horn of Gondor
From Anduin’s the stormy vale
Alas, now who will call it?
And who will bear the gallant tale?

A city of white,
And a courtyard of stone
The great tree of kings,
Trumpets calling them home.

~~ * ~~

A cry from Orthnanc

By: Hoyt H.

Orthnanc tower of Isengard,
Protrudes from the earth like a blackened shard,
A bone of the earth fractured in war,
The throne of a wizard that lives no more,
It’s windows clamped, its doorways barred,
The eternal tower of Isengard.
~
Orthnanc tower was the home,
Of a wizard content not to roam,
The wizard white,the council’s head,
From whom many wicked fled.
Praises were sung by many a bard,
About that lord of Isengard.
~
Orthnanc old held magic fair,
Sauruman skill was beyond compare,
He led the Istari in chaos and order,
Peace reigned within his rocky border.
A place of rest in times hard,
There was shelter within Isengard
~
Orthnanc tower held Saruman,
A wizard beyond the strength of man,
His power grew his magic was great,
But like all he met his fate.
Evil grew and none were scarred,
More than the keeper of Isengard.
~
Orthnanc once a place of joy,
Became a home to an evil ploy,
From Sauron Lord of trick and lie,
Saruman was bent to serve the eye.
His name was ruined his land was marred,
And evil came to Isengard.
~
Orthnanc was stripped of its mighty trees,
There branches burned to Sauron appease,
Saruman spirit was defeated,
By Sauron who stole, and burned and cheated.
Evil took over and the world was jarred,
When good departed from Isengard.
~
Orthnanc now stands to remind all,
That even the strongest, men can fall,
In power we still see the white wizard,
In the blinding snow of a freezing blizzard.
And no mortal can discard,
The lesson learned at Isengard,
~
Orthnanc still stands where it always will,
All who behold it know it’s thrill,
While evil took Saruman away,
The true white wizard is seen each day.
In snow capped peaks that stand guard,
Over the ancient Isengard.
~
Orthnanc remains while Sarumans gone,
The wizards magic shall ever wan.
In white capped waves and Sandy shores,
Saruman has past through a new set of doors.
His presence is felt in each square yard,
Within the sight of Isengard.
~
Orthnanc was home to Christopher Lee,
Who captured Saruman perfectly,
Now he too has reached the undying lands,
A pure white boat on pure white sands,
But on stands for ever that one last shard,
Of Saruman, in Isengard.

~~ * ~~

The Mines

By: the Champion of Mirkwood

Darkness covers the lost path,
Revealing the faded shadows,
Time has come yet it has passed,
Consumed by crippling battles.
All glory has now decayed,
The Halls are robbed of their masons,
History has been written,
With Dwarven blood at the basin.

The nostrils are under siege,
The stench has become prevalent,
The olfaction must stand trial,
With a verdict quite evident.
Decayed flesh divides the air,
And conquers all the senses,
The scent has grown more putrid,
Dismantling hope’s defenses.

The air has become heavy,
Like butter that is now rotten,
Flooding the mouth with disgust,
The fresh air has been forgotten.
With another toxic breathe
Sinking the lungs of travelers,
Ash and flesh reign in these Halls,
Now the tombs have found their handlers.

Readied sword, axe, and arrow,
The travelers grasp their weapons,
The pilgrim forced to relearn
The ancient Mine’s evil lesson.
The corridor’s stone is cold,
A chill runs rampant through the skin,
A homecoming is thwarted,
As the Dwarf now mourns for his kin.

The silence has grown louder,
With each echo getting longer,
Every footstep screams its pain,
And every breathe is more somber.
Nine hearts beat in unison,
Like battle drums in the distance,
The ghosts have finished their song,
The Balrog demands submission.

~~* ~~

Éowyn of Rohan

By Pandi P.

Éowyn of Rohan stood behind the throne,
her eyes full of tears, her rippling hair shone.
Fair lady, so bright, your eyes like stars
shone like golden lights throughout the night!

Éowyn of Rohan stood upon the walls,
her hair blown ‘round her face so fair.
Fair lady, so bright, your dress like pearls
rippled through the fading light as twilight fell again!

Éowyn of Rohan walked upon the stairs,
her feet so lightly clad upon the icy stair.
Fair lady, so bright, your arms were white as snow
that falls upon the frozen ground like crowns of golden stones.

Éowyn of Rohan sang at fading light,
her voice like silver winds upon a summer’s night.
Fair lady, so bright, you shone there fading clear
like sunlight on the fading swells towards the dawn of night.

~~ * ~~

MITHRANDIR

by: Bracegirdle

From the Blessed Realm sailing, Shining Valinor,
By the Eldar King sent on a burdensome chore.
Fragile he seemed yet his eye gleamed
As he departed from that Farthest West Shore.

Fair Mithlond received him and Middle-earth was blest;
As mortal he came this brave humble guest.
Círdan said “Master this Ring I do bring,
I deem it may aid thee ere end of your quest.”

Two thousand years and more he did toil.
From errand oppressive he did not recoil.
Weary of load wandering long lonely road,
From Havens to Last Desert over Middle-earth soil.

When in dark cavern deep and dungeon cold
Was found Ring bright, wrought with gold;
And Mithrandir knew this was the clue:
The Dark Lord to stop with desperate plan bold.

After time without end and trials indeed hard
O Pilgrim Grey be still on your guard!
For foe may be hidden coming unbidden
Your plans to thwart your hopes to discard.

Then Companions brave trodding dark Khazad-dûm
Were faced by the Terror released from his tomb.
Alone he fought as was his thought –
The means to the end more important than his doom.

Ever he battled monstrous Durin’s Bane,
To earth’s bowels deep then upward again.
From Silvertine’s summit the Balrog did plummet,
But alas! Savaged Wizard also was slain.

Back went the Grey Pilgrim from whence he departed;
Grace He was given, new plots to be charted.
Back came the Light as Gandalf the White,
And hope was restored by this Wizard bold-hearted.

White Rider the Mover, Middle-earth he did save;
The victory was His with those that did brave.
With errand now ended Mithrandir ascended
White Ship tall to sail West over wave.

O Mithrandir sundered from us to that place of evermore;
Yet long his tale will linger, long our hearts will soar.
And we who must remain will endlessly retain
Fond memory of this Wizard from that Shining Far West Shore.

~~ * ~~

THE PARTY TREE

By: Cora H.

In the land of Middle Earth,
There is a haven called the Shire,
Where people are wide of girth,
And wear colourful attire.

Within this lovely place,
Hobbiton can be found,
There is no lack of space,
For Hobbits live underground.

Atop the hill where Hobbits reside,
I stand, tall and proud.
On me little Hobbits love to hide,
And play beneath my shroud.

Under my branches festivities are had,
With much ale and food.
And no party could be bad,
With Gandalf to lighten the mood.

Fireworks go up from my hill,
Illuminating the sky,
Everyone can see the mill,
And the smoke rings floating by.

Inside them all,
There is much food and wine,
They all dance and have a ball,
Under my verdant vine.

They come to me to gather,
They also come to eat.
Though in winter they would rather,
Keep warm their furry feet.

My services have no fee,
When they come to call.
I will always be their party tree,
Until I decay and fall.

~~ * ~~

~ R I S E A N I G H T ~

By: Nordvar Viridium

Weeping and desolate, sad, so sad
Flayed is the loneliness of the mad
Gorging upon the Age of the Undead.
The darkest of days convulsing ahead
Light, the infidel, anchored damned
Weeping and desolate, sad, so sad.

Defeat the last herder –
Thus you can be the one in me,
To feel what I’m about to dream,
And bleed what I’ve never seen.
Three stars to murder –
Away from light ordained to be,
To see what life can never give
So enshadow the hearts with grief.

~~ * ~~

Returning Home; Thorin

By: Eleanor D.

Tonight is not the end;
Together we defend
The realm of hearth and home,
From which fools roam.
A lantern keeps alight,
Steadfast, warm and bright;
For a fool’s return,
We let the lantern burn.
Our foolish kin come back
To find the home they lack.
Let them not forget
Their wand’ring lessons yet.

~~ * ~~

Posted in

The Great Hall of Poets – May 2015

The Maiden with Silver Hair

by Lithoniel-Greenleaf

Walking slowly over the dew flecked grounds,
A young maiden with silver hair appears.
Her hair shining in the silver moon.
She dances, as a soft gentle breeze
Begins to stir.

The leaves are whispering secrets to her.
Secrets from the past, secrets from the days that
Have passed. Secrets from the future, secrets from
Children and men.

The maiden with silver hair smiles, and
Listens to the secrets being shared.
For she is the only one who can hear
Them, only her.

Secrets she would keep dear.
The maiden with silver hair smiles,
As the wind blows by.
She listens silently as the night
Calls to her.
The night calls to the stars.

The night calls to her,
And soon the maiden with
Silver hair, flowing past her knees
Dances again.
And soon whispering rain is heard,
Upon the horizon.

Soon a faint, giggle is heard.
And a voice as gentle as silk is heard.
Her tongue is foreign,
An ancient language.

But it seems to call to the rain,
To the wind, to the moon, to the stars,
To night, to day.
As the maiden with silver hair speaks,
Though not alone.

A quieter voice has joined her own, as the
Moon shines upon golden hair.
Another maiden is standing with her,
Clothed in white, and full of light.
Her ears though slightly pointed,
Show through her hair.
She is Galadriel, the lady of light.
The maiden with silver hair, speaks
Voice as quiet as night. Her ears are pointed as
Well it seems.
Elves both of these fair maidens are.

Both are ancient, both are wise.
Both have seen the world that comes
And goes.
Their voices, soft as snow, gentle
As rain, though foreign to
Thine ear.

Talk of the past, what is to come
And what has gone. And soon silence
Is heard.
The maiden with golden hair,
Has now gone with the wind.

As the maiden with silver hair,
Smiles and soon she is dancing again,
While leaves dance around her and wind
Whispers to her once more.
As the bell tolls midnight, the rain
Is soon to come.

And the Elven maiden with silver,
Flowing hair, and midnight blue gown,
Sings as her work is done. The rain sings around her,
Though she is not wet, giving life to the land,
To the earth she stands on.

For she smiles, as others,
Both men and hobbits, dwarves and elves
Sleep, for she would protect them,
As her mother does.

The elven maiden with silver hair,
Softly sings as the rains fall, the earth absorbs
The life giving rain. The leaves shiver as rain sparkles
Like early morning dew, from a star’s tear.

The maiden with silver hair, dances once
Again, as the land rejoices.
And soon her singing is heard in the
Wind, in the rain, among the stars and
In our dreams.

Though now she is gone,
But I know she will return.
For she is the elven maiden with silver hair
The guardian of secrets,
The guardian of rain,
The guardian of night,
The guardian of wind,
The guardian of our dreams.

Her mother Galadriel, always watches
Over her, guiding her.
Though the maiden with silver hair,
Has been there through the ages.

For she is the maiden with silver hair,
And she will always be.

~~ * ~~

In The Halls…

by Hali Ravenhammer

In the halls of dungeons deep
Where many delve and never sleep
It’s there twas found the heart of stone
Shining brightly all alone.

In the halls of carvings drawn
Soldiers stand to guard the dawn
The wind, it rises to catch the air
A subtle warmth that cannot compare.

In the halls where gold lies
The king stands alone and never cries
His heart is cold and lost and black
And cruel words are his harsh attack.

In the halls a dragon came
Destroying lives never to be the same
Killing all who crossed his path
And burning those in his fiery wrath.

In the halls where death lingers
The drake guards his hoard with scaly fingers
He sleeps brooding over his gold
His red greatness shining bold.

In the halls a terrible silence falls
And lone ravens mourn with lamenting calls
They wait for the day of the King’s return
Hearts hoping for him, they yearn.

In the halls of Erebor
The dwarves dwell there no more
Wandering lost in the wilderness
The harsh wind acts as their only caress

In the halls of broken ruin
The blood of Durin will return soon
Led by the crownless Prince with the oaken shield
The dragon’s might shall finally yield.

In the halls of Durin’s folk
Lies a sleeping King, many’ve spoke
He waits in rest, with his kin, until the demise
Then from heaven, he shall arise.

~~ * ~~

Last of the Ring Bearers

by Bracegirdle

On sun-bright summer mornings with clippers and a hoe
He’d take the pleasant short walk to the top of Bagshot Row.
While humming soft a song he would slowly stroll along,
Pondering the day’s work – how to help the garden grow.

When tales overheard of Elves and Rings and Foe immensely strong;
Of Master Frodo’s leaving – and fear he did not belong.
But the Grey Pilgrim knew that the heart of Sam was true,
And this son of Gaffer Gamgee would get to go along.

Through Old Forest and on to Bree, Sam met the Future King.
Then secret ways through reeking fen and midges with a Sting.
From Hilltop to the Ford where cold the waters roared;
A fate then lade at Rivendell – Nine Walkers and The Ring.

In Khazad-dûm a great loss – The Fellowship now eight.
Then Golden Wood too short a rest, and on to River Great.
Tale now fully told of Sam’s faithfulness so bold.
Then leisure trek to Shire so dear to fulfil his fate.

To Elanor he did entrust the Red Book to hold tight,
To tell the tales of days gone by, the days of dark and light.
Samwise with Daughter Fair then a final walk did share.
A slow walk of sweet sadness to Grey Havens bright.

Now, Last of the Ring Bearers, Middle-earth he did leave,
And Straight Way was taken as grace he did receive.
Past friendships now unfold and Sam’s tears fall as gold.
And Aman is further blest on this unknown summer’s eve.

~~ * ~~

The Raven Crown of Erebor

by Brianna L

The glistening black and shining gold,
Upon his brow it sits
Ancient treasure, but only one
Can claim it ere’ the battle’s done.

The raven strong, his wings outspread
Flying on a golden bed
This great symbol of majesty,
Yet with it comes such tragedy.

That black raven, with his broad wings
Power it gives, yet doom it brings:
The gold for the lust, and the black for the curse;
They see as he leaves them; he’s getting worse.

Alas for that he cannot see
What, for all his life did he
Fear to become, to the cursed gold succumb;
That golden crown brings death.

He hears voices, from afar off
Foretelling his doom, and warning him;
The sickness which threatened to be his death, ere’ long
Is from his proud and brave mind drawn.

His mind is clear, his heart is pure
His courage back; his intention sure
Their King is returned, and the treacherous crown
Is discarded, the sickness thrown down.

~~ * ~~

Of Arwen Evenstar

by Ludwina Marie

In Elvenhome of Rivendell,
where Elrond Half-Elven gladly dwells;
Fair is his land, clear water flows
like starlight caught in crystal shone.
Gay are his halls, the sparkling wells
tinkled merrily like golden bells.
Fair Elven lords in carven stone
and dancing Elven maids of old.
Forgotten runes of ancient lore
were placed upon his mighty door.

There music rang, forever sweet,
the golden sun there brightly lit.
No evil shadow ever falls,
no darkness touches shining walls
In Imladris, the Elvenhome,
the mighty rest and cease to roam.

Though fair was Elrond’s Rivendell,
fairer still, Arwen Undómiel.
In Lúthien’s image come again:
Evenstar of the Elven race.

Dark as the twilight was her hair,
the light in her eyes, none could mar.
The white of her arms shone like snow
on a winter’s day; and her brow,
adorned with glittering silver lace;
Her soft grey raiment and her face,
veiled with wisdom and mem’ry old,
Youthful was she and yet not so.

The birds sang sweetly at her feet,
the forest rejoiced when they meet.
The starlight falls about her hair –
on Tinúviel, the Elven-fair.

Above all else did Elrond prize,
above all counsels of the wise;
Before the sun and silver moon,
the countless stars, the blooming fields.
Ere any mighty Elven lord,
ere val’iant man or dwarven hoard,
above all gifts of Galadriel –
Was Arwen, Lady Undómiel.

~~ * ~~

~The Treasures of Middle Earth~

by Hoyt H.

VERSE 1 Prologue
The treasure of yore, in Middle Earth,
The smelted ore, of untold worth.
Gems beyond the count men, gold beyond all comprehension,
Silver steel worth gold times ten, drew all the free people’s attention.
For every single treasure found, evil followed after,
Crying was the only sound, and grief drowned out all laughter.
The mighty jewels of massive wealth, and great heaps of works of gold,
Were stolen away with evil stealth. as it is in all tales told
When a prize of any worth, is found by the wise,
Be it from sea or from the earth. it’s stolen before their eyes
The want for treasure has many names, dragon sickness, greed,
All the riches of ancient fames, were subject to evil deeds.

VERSE 2 Mithril
Mithril bright from Moria’s mine, shines like silver steel,
A shining ore with a burnished shine. as sleek as a slithering eel.
Stronger than iron triple forged, worth more than any gold,
Mines were stripped and deep shafts gorged, to mine the true silver of old.
Gleaming like rain, strong as a mountain,
Bright without stain, like a glittering fountain.
Mithril, metal of Durin’s folk, ordains the white city’s gate,
A gleaming sheet that can’t broke, to protect against forces of hate.
Beneath Caradras cruel, in Moria’s deep rock cave
The dwarves they struck with many a tool, the dwarvish race was brave.
They braved the Balrog’s darkened lair, to mine the hardened silver treasure
Bravely mining the meatal fair to bring the dwarf king pleasure.
The Balrog took the Mithril, and fled to Kazad-Dum,
It became a place of dark cold chill, it became king Durin’s tomb.

VERSE 3 ~The Arkenstone~
The jewel beyond all measure the Arkenstone of Thror,
Was a kingly treasure, The heart of Erebor
This gem of pure starlight, was found deep within the stone,
A crystal gem of transparent white. adorned king Thror’s throne
The heart of the lonely peak, beside the running river,
The jewel was strong it made dwarves weak, that clear and shining sliver.
The jewel of ancient splendor, was the pride if all dwarf kind,
It did the dwarves hearts render, and corrupted the kings mind.
The greatest jewel of the wild north, it drew the gaze of all
To seize the gem a worm came forth, and Erebor did fall.
The dragon Smaug came for the stone, the dwarves were slain and beaten,
The dwarves were stranded all alone, and some were burned an eaten.
The dragon descended on the mound, of heaping gold and jewels,
He gathered the treasure all around, the dwarvin kings were fools.

VERSE 4~The Trees of the Valar~
The trees of the Valar the sun and moon, were bright upon the sky.
Greater in power than any rune, they stretched to reaches high.
The trees of elves were beautiful, they shone of gold and silver light,
To them the elves were dutiful, for they lit the day and night.
White and shining boughs, and leaves of brightest beams,
All who beheld wept and were cowed, at the light as clear as streams.
The power of Iluvatar, was poured into these trees,
They caught the light of every star, for all the elves to see.
But Morgoth the dark lord, the most evil of them all,
Hated the beauty in the trees stored, so the spider he sent to maul.
The dark ones plan was cunning, the spider destroyed the light,
Where once was beacons stunning, now was only death and night.
The trees were pulled out of the ground, Ungoliant stole their power,
Elves were fallen all around, it was there darkest hour.

VERSE 5 ~The Silmarils~
The Silmarils were precious stones, the held the light of the trees,
The trees now bare and lifeless bones, and left to rot and freeze,
These Silmarils were crafted, by elves with magic skills,
The trees power in them grafted, by the mighty elven wills.
Globes of crystal transparent, and filled with burning light,
Like the trees which were their parent, they were a noble sight.
With the trees destroyed by evil, and Morgoth seizing the land,
In a time of great upheaval, the elves did make there stand.
But Morgoth descended, and stole also these orbs a-glowing,
With middle Earth upended, evil seeds were sowing.
Elves were dead and weeping, Feanor took his oath,
Evil things were creeping they took the trees and Silmarils both.
Those were dark days for the wise, Morgoth took the stones,
He stole away with his prize, and set them on his throne.

VERSE 6~The Magic Rings~
But perhaps the greatest prize of all, the magic rings of old,
More magic than any spell or thrall, forged of enchanted gold.
Perfect bands of metal ore, polished till they shone.
The most powerful of magic lore, shaped and set with stones,
Made by elvish craftsman, tricked by Sauron’s spell,
For the elves and dwarves and kings of man, and one for the dark lord fell.
There magic seemed a splendid gift, but it truly was a curse,
To evil use these rings did shift, but the one ring was the worst.
Made by elves to be a boon, but by Sauron defiled,
Carved with many an ancient rune, and with black magic styled.
The dwarvin rings were taken, in men the elves lost faith,
Their trust in kings was shaken, as each became a wraith.
Sauron daily grew in might, elves slowly grew weak,
He stole the rings out of sight, in his blackened peak.

VERSE 7 ~Epilogue~
While it often seems that all, That’s good is stole away.
That for every leap there is a fall, But for every nights there’s day.
While the Balrog took the Mithril fine, the wizard slew the creature,
The dwarves returned to Moria’s mine, and restored its every feature.
The Arkenstone was claimed by Smaug, but the dwarves reclaimed their home.
They cleared cave of the smoky fog, and replaced the jewel on its throne.
The Valar trees had died from rot, the spider was expelled,
Morgoth was defeated and caught, to pay for the trees he felled.
Morgoth was bound for eternity, the Silmarils too he did take,
Now they rest in fire, sky and the sea, the hope of the elves he could not break.
Finally the rings of power were cast, by Sauron the second dark lord.
Destroyed like villains of ages past by bravery, fire, and sword.
So while every good king has his foe, and every treasure a thief,
Good things come when bad things go, despair is replaced by relief.

~~ * ~~

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The Great Hall of Poets – March 2015

Fili’s Lament

By Kili’s Runestone

Me staring back was your very first sight,
When you opened your eyes that night.
You learned to crawl as I learned to walk,
You learned to eat as I learned to talk.
Your very first word was my own name,
The best of friends is what we became.
Thorin gave us wood shields and swords,
He told us stories of dragons and hoards,
We dreamt of adventure, we played pretend,
If I was an orc, your play bow you’d bend,
If you were an orc, I’d slash my sword,
We were together, we were never bored.
We’d spin long tales of glory and gold,
We talked of what we’d do when old,
We talked of treasure, of battles we’d fight,
We talked of fame, of strength, of might,
We soon were men, though quite young,
Still we dreamt, when songs were sung,
Of winning the war, of quenched dragon fire,
And when we journeyed out to the Shire,
We followed our leader, our captain, our king.
We went merry, many a song we’d sing,
We raced our ponies, we gazed at stars,
We escaped together, from Thranduil’s bars.
I worried over you, but we had best of fun,
Sometimes we rode, sometimes we’d run,
We always sang, told tales of treasure,
We braided hair, our beards we’d measure,
We grew more solemn as the dragon drew near,
But we grew not afraid, we did not feel fear,
Thorin was our leader, and Bilbo had a ring,
We were Durin’s sons, we did not fear a thing.
But when Thorin descended to madness,
And I saw in your eyes pain and sadness,
When innumerable ranks, we charged,
When through shield and spear we barged,
When the sword smote through my breast,
When the lance struck through your chest,
When bleeding I fell into the cold dark mud,
Tried to scream but what came was only blood,
You stumbled towards me but could not stand,
You crawled to me, I reached for your hand,
We cried together and thought sadly of old,
We had thought battles were all glory and gold,
You shuddered and asked if you were dying,
I said no, though we both knew I was lying,
I said you should sleep, I’ll sing you a song,
I sang to you of far away caves, of rivers long,
I sang to you of mother, of laughter and love,
I sang to you of the Arkenstone stars above.
Blood poured from my mouth as I whispered to you,
Your beautiful face began to take a grey hue,
We held each other, you whispered good bye,
I remembered when you said you’d never die.
Your eyes fluttered closed, you breathed your last,
I told you I loved you, remembered days long past,
We were children who didn’t know fear,
I closed my eyes and drew you near,
And then in the bloodied evening grey,
I dropped your hand and slipped away.

~~ * ~~

The Battle of the Pelennor

By Elodrin

In front of the City
The orcs show no pity.
While women are weeping
In death, men are sleeping.

The battle was almost lost:
Great was the orcs’ grim cost.
When horns commenced to ring,
And the Horse-lords began to sing.

Forward they charged and fast,
And though their army was not vast,
They slew the Enemy and sang
As sword on shield began to clang.

Yet it was going very ill:
Men of Harad came to kill.
The King fought well, but soon was slain
Upon that blood-red, grassy plain.

But upon the dawn of newborn day,
When sun in her lonely rest still lay,
There came upon the blood-stained river
The Dead that caused all men to shiver.

Wielding shining swords they ran,
As seasoned warriors only can.
Dismayed, the orcs threw down their shields,
Ending the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.

~~ * ~~

LOTR’s Poem

by – Jordan Michael K

Send forth all LEGIONS
The command comes from on high on the RUINS
The Anduin bleeds & she’s no longer the Wall she was in our antiquity
Send forth all LEGIONS and take the city!
Show no pity for the Hammer has fallen to shatter!
Mordor has come & our doom will come after!
The ‘deadly servant’ of the great Eye has revealed himself with war & tide
Flee for your lives & fall for the White Tower has an empty hall & the blood of Numenor hears the ending call
Light the BEACONS for the ‘Witch King’ has sent forth all LEGIONS

~~ * ~~

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The Great Hall of Poets

ArwenReading_revisedWelcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular monthly feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. Each month we will feature a small selection of the poems submitted, but we hope you will read all of the poems that we have received here in our Great Hall of Poets.

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Posted in Creations, Fans, Poetry

The Great Hall of Poets

ChristmasBilboReadingWelcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular monthly feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. Each month we will feature a small selection of the poems submitted, but we hope you will read all of the poems that we have received here in our Great Hall of Poets.

So come and join us by the hearth and enjoy!

If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net
One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.

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Posted in Creations, Fans, Poetry

The Great Hall of Poets – December 2014

An Elf Remembers, or Galadriel’s Lament: A Poem in Two Parts

by Mrs Adam C

The Light of Valinor

A silver light gleaming, stars mounting to the sky;
the darkness flew, the dawn gleamed dim, the sky filled with light.
There were Two Trees, far in the West, Two Trees without decay,
one silver-clad, one wreathed in gold, before they passed away.
In Valmar fair, the City Gold, the bells were rung at dawn,
and when the stars burned fiery-bright the Elves were dancing long.
Beneath the thrones of ivory, under the seats of stone
the Vanyar played their glitt’ring harps, and silver horns were blown.
O Valmar sweet! the roofs of gold, the doors of polished bronze
reflect the beauty of the Trees across the gloaming lawns.
Taniquetil the ever-white was glist’ning in the light
of those Two Trees in elder days before there came the night.
Atop the peak of that great mount was set a mansion white;
and on the roof of azure hue were spangled stars alight.
O Ilmarin! I used to gaze upon the lofty heights,
and ever from Oiolossë the eagles flew in flights.
The mountains tall, the Pelóri, they reached unto the sky,
and in that field of matchless blue the eagles strong did fly.
The swans of Ossë decked their prows, while on a field of blue
the seagulls mewed and cast their eyes down on peerless view.
O Valinor! the moon did rise and with the sun in train;
but till I can return to thee there is no rest for me.

The Darkening of Valinor

O! Oiolossë, the darkness falls, the eagles fly away,
and left am I, now here alone, on land unto the sea.
O Telperion, O Laurelin, your light has left my heart;
and never more shall I see thee, for you are lost from me.
Taniquetil gleams glitt’ring white, her shining peaks reveal;
and Valmar of the Valar is veiled in mourning, for the Trees of Light are dimmed.
No longer do the Vanyar play their glitt’ring harps at dawn;
No longer are the silver horns blown bright at loss of day.
O Valmar bright! the leaves of gold shine from dying Laurelin;
and all would see Telperion and silver light therein.
Where Fëanor the Fire-eyes with all his kindred dwelt
before bright Elven-Tirion the growing darkness felt.
O Tirion! Thy crystal stairs led up to fountains clear,
and there I ran in days of old to see the morn appear.
And in the West, there by the Sea, a city gemmed and pearled,
while in the harbour docked the ships whose banners were unfurled.
Alqualondë! thy beaches fair are spread with silver shells,
while on the Sea thy white ships sail upon the crystal swells.
In Avathar a darkness rose, a shadow woke from death,
and ere the sun had risen Valmar felt the haunted breath;
The Trees, they died, the light there fled, the wells were sucked up dry,
and then the shadow left that darkened land beneath the sky.
O Valinor! I hear again sweet Valmar’s golden bells,
and how I wish once more to fly across the shining swells.
The darkness veiled, the shadow down, the Trees were laid to rest;
yet I shall long forever for the silver shores again.

~~ * ~~

THE ROAD TRAVELLED

by Richard F

60 years have come and gone while I travelled paths laid out in parchment bound with leather,
Witnessed by sun and moon who lit my way;
So scarce could I believe that one day those who had contributed so much would appear,
Rising out of darkness to stand before me;
Whispers in the wind, the ringing of steel, voices rising in joy…in song…in anger…
and in sorrow;

So much to comprehend and yet here they were…
Smeagol who held my fear,
Gollum who bore my pain,
Gandalf who taught me wisdom,
Aragorn who gave me strength and courage,
and
Bilbo, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin who taught me never to judge by appearance.

Those and so many more who influenced me, now lending those lessons to new generations.
Once more the door opens and the path beckons … leading them on to new adventures,
Oh how I envy them for the wonders they will see, and yet I hope they
never loose sight of the dreams and stories which made them who they are.

“Dedicated to J.R.R. Tolkien”
“and the many whose lives have been influenced by his writings over the years!”

“Special Thanks to Peter Jackson”
“Well Done – A Compliment from the Heart”

~~ * ~~

 

The Song of the Skin-Changer

By Hali Ravenhammer

My skin is fur
My senses alive.
Many of us
Our species thrive.

Then fires came
And burned our lands.
We ran from our homes
Into enemy hands

Wolf and Bear
And Hawk and Fox
All of us caught,
Bound with iron locks.

From my prison, trapped.
Heckled, tormented.
While I watched them die
My kin, I lamented.

A proud race were we,
Reduced to dust.
Here, alone
My bonds start to rust.

One of the few
Weak and critically ill.
It’s my turn to fight
And my child I must kill.

He is so pale
And is going to die.
But holds his head up
And refuses to cry.

The changes takes it from him
All of his strength
And to him I run
But I’m stopped at arm’s length.

I cradle his head
My tears falling fast
Until his eyes close
And his soul is now passed.

They jeer and they laugh
Those who hold me
And in a blind rage,
I fight till I’m free.

Blood pours from my veins
As I run through the wild
All I can see
Is the dead face of my child.

On the brink of death
I can hear a voice
Soft as light
Giving me a choice.

To stay in my sorrows
In my ache and pain.
Or to break from cage
And my kin rise again.

I will avenge you
I promise my kin.
Until every captor is dead,
And our pride I will win.

Years ago there were many,
And now there is only one.
The weight in my heart is crushing.
Now, in the night my song is done.

~~ * ~~

Lie Still, My Love (From Arwen To Aragorn On Their Last Night Together)

by BlackFox

Lie still, my love, lie still
The hour, it is early still
Sleep, my love, sleep
The dark is yet too deep

Rest, my love, no rush to wake
Not yet, ere the day’s break
Wait, my love, no need to go
Let the river of dreams flow

Lie still, my love, don’t leave
The night still has songs to weave
Lie still, my love, let it be
I beg you, stay here with me

~~ * ~~

A Question

by Tyler A

The Ring-Bearer and his faithful Samwise,
Spent half year trying, the ring, to destroy,
Battled by Sauron, evil was his guise,
With merciless might, haunting the poor boy.
Ever peering through the eyes of his spies,
Sauron searched for the West’s trick or decoy,
Battling with hate, the Ring-Bearer’s allies,
The Dark Lord hoped, Men and Elves, to destroy.
Aided by faithful friends, the Ring-Bearer
Took the lost ways and the evil paths East,
These problems you gave for their time to bide,
Yet, why did the ring-bearer not take use
Of the eagles, on whose backs, he could ride?

~~ * ~~

Untitled

by Claire G

I want to go back to the days
When all was wild and free;
And all of us could laugh and dance
The springle-ring under the trees.

I want to go back to the days
When darkness did not reign;
When hope and happiness endured,
And love would conquer pain.

I want to go back to the days
When the lands were lush and green;
And flowers bloomed on hillsides,
And sunshine was our queen.

But long over are those days;
Claimed they have been by the past;
Now a dream cloaked in darkness
Where hope can barely last.

It’s the reality we face
It’s the toll that our lives pay;
And now, when they’re all over,
I want to go back to the days.

~~ * ~~

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