Laer Cú Beleg
By Jennifer “Lover of Lembas”
The string was pulled,
The string was taut,
The arrow loosed,
The wind it caught.
Far over hill and dale it soared,
To serve both friend and mighty lord.
Pursuing one with cursed name,
Through peril and through fire and flame.
Strong friend was he, both brave and true,
His strength and fire ever grew,
Until a flame that burned as bright,
As Silmarils in evening light.
His love was but to defend,
He was a true and loyal friend,
Valor and honor were his wont,
And it led him to a bitter end.
Against evil he bravely fought,
But evil was the one he sought,
Who pierced him through with frozen blade,
And only pain and sorrow brought.
No more in fair woods will he sing,
No evening light or glow he bring.
These woods are barren wasted lands,
Wrought with lament for truest friend.
~~ * ~~
(setting: Mycenae, circa 1500 B.C.)
“Atlantis”? No, my grandson
Your wise priests intone awry
Hear and mark, for truth is passing
Into myth! Recite, as I:
When the mercy of the gods
Cast the pride of Men-folk down
Sailed the Remnant from once-sacred shores
And watched their brethren drown
While the hammer of Ar-Pharazon
Made land on Aman’s shore
Struck with wounds, Isildur bled and fled
His home to see no more
But bore he in his bosom
His kin’s hope for brighter day
And the White Tree’s sapling yet would grow
As his line throned did stay
They called it “Atalante”
When the Isle of Promise fell
But its given name was Numenor
If old tales we would tell
~~ * ~~
Arwen to Elrond
I have loved the sadness of his quiet face,
I have understood the despair in his eyes,
I have known his aura, his hope, his grace,
And the age-old guilt which in his soul lies.
I have soothed his brow and felt the blades,
I have tried to ease constant pain by touch;
He’s love to me, and now when all life fades,
Death, when compared to this love, is not much.
I have chosen enveloping darkness,
I have spurned the last of the passing ships,
I have shunned every sign of weakness,
For the memory of his eyes, his lips.
If Aman promised me my share of bliss,
I care not, for, in his heart, I have this.
~~ * ~~
By Kili’s Runestone
Shining embers long forgot,
‘Flect in eyes that long besought,
Jangling, tinkling, dreadful hoard,
He stumbles on, stumbles toward,
His treasure beneath the carven stones.
Mad delight in glist’ning gold,
Heart grows silvered, ghastly cold.
What flame is this, scorching soul?
His eyes are burning, blazing coal.
The fire feeds him, but burns his bones.
This is not a dragon’s flame,
Dragon sickness, that to blame,
Laughing, rasping, growling, sick,
Crawling, slinking, breathing quick,
In halls of fraudulent, glitt’ring thrones.
~~ * ~~