The Great Hall of Poets – September 2017

Last Horn Cry

by: Laurelindorenan

Beside the river last he stood
Pierced by arrows, wet with blood
His great horn rang
The orc bows sang
Those he protected screamed his name
He called for help, but no help came.

And far off, under forest eaves
His brother wept beneath the leaves
Though dark was deep
He could not sleep
For every time he closed his eyes
He heard again the wild horn cries.

~~ * ~~

The Cautionary Tale of Bartolo Boffin and the Great Barrow

by: Braag Son of Balin

The tale I tell today ‘tis true
Of a Ne’er-do-well who came to rue
The day he set out from the shire
With dire plans did he conspire
To ferret out a fortune far from farms where up he grew
(In fact, his friends were far and few..)

Bartolo, a Boffin born
A bully whom the Baggins scorned
Was a trial to kith and kin
For sins too sundry to begin
And so at 33, out he was tossed and none did mourn
(Not even Uncle Bingo was forlorn…)

Rather than soil his lazy hands
A daring deed instead he planned
To raid the Tomb of Othrongroth
(At tales of the dead, he’d often scoffed)
And live a life of leisure laced with loot that he would land
(Think Furry Toesies in the Sand…)

So he set out ‘cross the Marish
Swam the River (nearly Perished!)
Hauled from Dock, and crawled cross Buckland
(Quaffed a few brews from a Pub he ducked in)
Steeled with Liquid Courage to face Forest Old and scarish
(In fact, it was nightmarish!)

In fevered dreams he finally emerged
From frenzied forest fears discouraged
But he knew that he’d found the Barrows
And harrowing cold seeped in his marrow
As he shied from shambling shades reciting dirges
(Poor pathetic Perian, beset by scourges!)

At last at mighty Othrongroth
Edain Burial Mound of Wroth
He hesitated on the doorstep
No riches could compel one more step
And amid his dark despair, he turned his eyes aloft
(And on the air, faint echoes of a warming whistle waffed…)

A whistle heard now clearly keened
Stronger still and pure and clean
Afore the wound of Othrongroth
It brought memories of his family’s croft
A soft and gentle touch of home serene
(and suddenly he knew how stupid he had been!)

But before he could turn away
A shade of Cardolan’s dismay
Screamed and reached to draw him in
Lights fury flashed amid the din
And he felt his mind slipping away
(A feeling he sore remembers to this day!)

When at last his wits he found
He descried two eyes a-twinkling down
Smiling at his form supine
Upon the banks of the Brandywine
“You Halflings sure find trouble by the pound”
(and o’er the hills the odd man capered with a bound)

So Bartolo staggered home that day
A hobbit changed in most every way
He joined the Bounders burly band
And always gave a helping hand
Ne’er again to speak of his journey’s way
(But the hair on his toes was ever more white than grey!)

~~ * ~~

Heir of Durin

by: Brianna Lynn

Dark the light that burneth now,
Deep within his soul
Pain he feels and grief he bears
No more can he be whole.

The strongest yet may wither,
But firm still does he stand
Face to the wind and back unbent
An image of long gone glory grand

No crown there is upon his head
No robes or throne nor kingly bed
Yet stern his visage now declares
The place of king which he now bears.

None can turn his steps or will
And ever he seeks vengeance still
This doom upon him now does lie
To find peace at last only to die.

~~ * ~~

Bilbo and the Ring

by: Austin M.

Once lived a hobbit, safe, secure, content.
All of his wits and pluck he’ll use real well
While on a journey long he all but spent
Under the misty mountains tall he fell.
As Bilbo Baggins fumbled blindly ‘round
A tunnel dark not opening behind
His hand hit something cold upon the ground.
A ring then thought no more about his find.
But what will happen to the ring of gold
That Bilbo accidently found and kept
Wrought by Sauron in malice, hate, and heat
The many flames of Mordor flamed and leapt
As Dark Lord forged this ring of vile hate.
Unknown to him Bilbo would reap this fate.

~~ * ~~