The Great Hall of Poets – May 2015
The Maiden with Silver Hair
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
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
Their voices, soft as snow, gentle
As rain, though foreign to
Talk of the past, what is to come
And what has gone. And soon silence
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
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.
~~ * ~~