by Nomad1420<\/em><\/p>\n Once there were eight leaves of L\u00f3rien, ~~*~~<\/p>\n For Fili and Kili<\/p>\n By Kili\u2019s Runestone<\/em><\/p>\n Too young for so much fighting Too young to sacrifice Why do the good die young? Too young to scream like that Too young to get up Too young to never come back ~~*~~<\/p>\n by Cassie<\/em><\/p>\n A final goodbye and the last ship will sail, Halflings and Naugrim will all pass away, An elf and a dwarf will be carried aboard ~~*~~<\/p>\n by RangerLady23<\/em><\/p>\n I know the way to Mordor ~~*~~<\/p>\n By Phoenix<\/em><\/p>\n From the shortest of walks to the longest of wars ~~*~~<\/p>\n by the gr\u00e9y elf<\/em><\/p>\n I am alone. Emptiness surrounds me, My belly holds a trapped beast. Dreams haunt No one comes for me. Still no one. Before the dying breath, A wandering scent My shriveled mouth painfully unsticks A cold and knowing burn flares within me In answer, a dull sound cracks the still air. And instinct whispers, Shelob need wait no more.<\/i><\/p>\n ~~*~~<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Leaves of Laurelind\u00f3renan by Nomad1420 Once there were eight leaves of L\u00f3rien, One drifted over the falls,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":82,"featured_media":0,"parent":80298,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-89155","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t
\nOne drifted over the falls,
\nOne was cast down by the way and yet found,
\nAnd one flew to Isengard\u2019s walls,
\nTwo were blown toward the darkening East
\nWhile three hasted Westward to war
\nEach year the leaves of Lothl\u00f3rien fall
\nBut seldom her leaves fall so far<\/p>\nToo young<\/h4>\n
\nFor such needless death
\nToo young for so much sadness
\nTo watch their father\u2019s last breath
\nToo young
\nTo never
\nCome
\nHome<\/p>\n
\nTo watch their king fall
\nToo young to be alone
\nTo lose it all
\nToo young
\nTo never
\nCome
\nHome<\/p>\n
\nWhy such evil fates?
\nWhy does gold and glory call
\nWhen death awaits?
\nWhy did
\nThey never
\nCome
\nBack?<\/p>\n
\nFor their hearts to be rent
\nToo young to have to grow up
\nIn that moment
\nWhen they saw
\nHim fall
\nAnd heard
\nHim cry<\/p>\n
\nTo have to fight
\nToo young to do what they did
\nTo never see the light
\nToo young
\nTo never
\nCome
\nHome<\/p>\n
\nTo watch each other die
\nToo young to hold each other
\nAnd cry
\nToo young to hold each other
\nAnd die<\/p>\nFaded Legends<\/h4>\n
\nThe white gulls are calling an end to the tale.
\nNo more will the Fair folk be seen on these shores
\nSlipping to fable, remembered no more.<\/p>\n
\nAnd the ship as it sails out of sight of the bay,
\nwill turn to the west where Undying lands lie,
\nneeding no hand to guide it, so straight will it fly.<\/p>\n
\nthe last of their kind to depart from these shores.
\nAnd as history turns into legend and myth
\nMankind will forget what it is that they miss.<\/p>\nJourney<\/h4>\n
\nI know the way back home
\nI know the way to Gondor
\nthough my feet are swollen and sore.
\nI know the way to Lothlorien
\nI know the way to Rivendell
\nI can show you my friend if you’re willing
\nbut be warned it’s quite a long spell.
\nI know the way to Weathertop
\nI know the way to Bree
\nbut my journey doesn’t end in Mordor
\nmy journey ends over sea.<\/p>\nThe Courage of Hobbits!<\/h4>\n
\nFrom the humble Shire to the peak of the mountain
\nFrom the smallest of creatures to the strongest of Dwarves
\nFrom the thunder of Stone Giants to the silence of an arrow
\nFrom the bluest of days to the darkest of nights
\nFrom the most pitied of creatures to the wisest of elves
\nFrom the gliding of butterflies to the eagle’s flight
\nFrom the trot of ponies to the slither of a dragon
\nMy love for The Hobbit is unexplained
\nUntil you hear it out in plain
\nBilbo Baggins of the Shire
\nKnew not to look at the dragons fire
\nFor if he did
\nHe would of hid
\nFor it never ceases to amaze me
\nthe courage of Hobbits!<\/p>\nWAITING<\/h4>\n
\nfills me.
\nFood is a fading memory.<\/p>\n
\nIt forages without rest,
\nwithout satisfaction.
\nSuch is famine’s cruel joke:
\nI become less on nothing;
\nthis devouring power becomes more.
\nWould that hunger could eat fear.<\/p>\n
\nof sweetness and warmth and succulence.
\nMy mouth is dry.<\/p>\n
\nI am nearly nothing,
\na husk with curled and whittled limbs.
\nThey cradle my stagnant body tenderly
\nas slowly, so slowly, it is digested
\nin the dank bowels of death.
\nThe beast inside me thrives.<\/p>\n
\ninstinct steals back to its crucible.
\nCrafted by the ages, it is imperishable.
\nAnd dormant.
\nGrip hard to life!<\/i> it whispers. Bite! Hold!!<\/i>
\nSo I wait. And wait.
\nAlone with the desperate beast….<\/p>\n
\ndelicately twists about me
\nin a lariat of vapor.
\nNearby, a drawn, dispossessed sound
\nfollows the passageway.
\nSpeech echoing, calling —
\nfor me?<\/p>\n
\nto inhale this phantasm.
\nThe scent tastes of fear. Not my own.
\nI savor it.<\/p>\n
\nfomenting excitement:
\nthrills lick along senses that dilate in response,
\nvisceral byways spasm with lust,
\nnerves jump and tighten
\nlike the plucked strings of a puppet.<\/p>\n
\nI feel my leg unfolding. It trembles.
\nI extend it cautiously to the cavern wall.
\nThen the other. Then the other ….<\/p>\n