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ImladrisIn Imladris, in Rivendell
Are secrets more than I can tell
There ancient lore of long-lost lands
Still lingers on in elven hands
In Rivendell, in Imladris
Are love and laughter, joy and bliss
East of Sea few places remain
That grant such sure surcease from pain
In Imladris, in Rivendell
They shall not yet say their farewell
For even when all else may fade
Some light shall live, untouched by shade.
The Horror of the DarkFinwë has known shadow in his life.
He has known the quiet peaceful shadows that bring only rest. He has known the waiting shadow of a world still waking itself to life.
And he has known the fearful shadow that creeps beyond the fire’s light, that steals away mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters and friends, from those who are left behind. Knowing that shadow, he has loved the light more dearly; he has treasured loved ones in Aman, knowing no shadow will deprive him as it deprived others.
Those born beneath the Light of the Trees have not known this shadow, but he is grateful for that. Even when they cannot understand him, he is grateful; their innocence, their happiness, their joy ever untainted by apprehension… these things are gifts.
They have always lived in light.
One day, the light goes out. The gold and silver radiance is extinguished, plunging all into shadow.
The people cry out in their fear, but Finwë is not
I Dreamt a DreamI dreamt a dream of Valinor
the Blessed Realm of Eldamar
where stars gleam on the ivory shore
and Elven-folk dwell with Valar.
In dreams I crossed the silver sea
and rode the waves all topped with foam.
A joyful chorus greeted me:
fair voices calling, "Welcome home!"
In visions fair I then beheld
the seas of Ulmo, great and wide;
I walked through forests never felled
with fair Yavanna at my side.
I wandered deep in caverns dim
where jewels gleamed pale in rocky bed.
In AulŽ's forge I stood by him
and watched the embers blazing red.
O'er emerald hills there came the sound
of laughter and of dancing feet;
and leapt they o'er the grassy ground
Tulkas and Nessa, swift and fleet.
The sudden sound of hooves afar
came thund'ring o'er the verdant lawn.
Soon hither on his steed, Nahar
rode OromŽ, the Huntsman strong.
And then again I roving went
where VŠna's gardens flourished fair;
gold blossoms gave a honeyed scent
and birdsong shivered in the air.
But then of mirth I took my leave
MajestyBlack the night that closed around me,
(Now I see!)
When I listened as He promised
Long I waited; still she turned and
Looked on you!
Son of few years, quickly fading:
Shadows steals across the City,
I shall drown both star and candle:
Bring the Night.
See the furnace-glow of crimson?
Hear the roar?
To Doom I have brought completion:
Bloody chaos breaks around me,
I shall find her Ė she'll forget you:
But your arms are strong as iron,
Have no doubt;
Past the rail meant to save me
I spill out.
Seven times they jagged crush me,
'Til I fall no more but lie here-
Blood-stained rise the walls above me,
As light through deep water darkly:
Ragged, now, my cloak of glory,
Here in silence ends this story:
Here lies dead.
J. R. R. TolkienJust see who enters
the realm of dreams
that none have seen
legends of old
Molding them into
Reaping the fruits
that in his mind grow
to rivers of words
that from his pen flow
Travel through the lands,
follow the dream
He gives you his hand...
Enter with him!
The Mirror Cracked'A blazing wave devours white shore,'
The poets muse on Feanor,
While they should wish him nothing more
Than swiftly falling ash.
In reckless words we forged our fate,
In white-hot script for cracking slate,
Each syllable the world's weight -
But gladly were we crushed.
I saw blood in the soft sea wrack;
Each sea-elf dead a mirror's crack
In our own faces staring back
From all the noble slain.
In Dior's blessed and empty face
I searched for us but found no trace.
The mirror shattered. Only grace
We bear no more stared back.
The waves closed over Elwing's head,
Dissolved the Light that silver bled
Into a face that held no dread;
So different from ourselves.
Not princes now, nor kings, but thieves,
And reckless as the falling leaves,
We take the Jewels and my heart grieves:
For all the world is stained.
For this the final Doom we bear:
In blood spilt red as Nelyo's hair;
The golden Vanyar lying there
Dead, even as our hearts.
The living Light is agony;
A shining, sharp finality:
A leap i
An Old Legend
Ages long gone and ages long passed
Shades of grey, man's memory fades fast
The glory days told of old
Shines as brightly as silver and gold
Before the dark, before the strife
Before many of the spans of life
There lied the glory that men bore
The gilded light of Westernesse's shore
That era of brilliance, that age of wealth
That time of wisdom and of great health
Those days are passed or so it is said
As now the great kings of lore lie dead
Is there a hope against such reckless hate?
Where does it lie? The enemy's gate
Draws nearer every day
And now there is little that holds him at bay
But still we hold on to legends and tales
What more will we have when the strength of men fails?
There is still one yet who holds the power
To aid this land in its darkest hour.
From father to son, the title has been given
In the shadows these brave people have striven
To drive away the darkness that besets all
While there is still life in them, men shall not fall
I know the king shall come again, f
The Grace Given to MeThe Lord of the Rings fanfiction: How do you know that today is the day to die? How do you spend your last day? The thoughts of Aragorn.
It is time. I know it just as the birds know when to obey the calling of the wind and fly away from the cold lands to feel the sunrays on their wings again. I know it just as the tree knows when to say farewell to its leaves, watching them flutter to the ground one by one and giving something of itself with every leaf. I know that my time has come.
Sometimes I wondered how I would recognize it. How does a man know that he has reached the point where he can leave with dignity and greatness like the kings of old? How does he know that today is the day to die? It could be tomorrow and tomorrow again. One more day not for myself, but for the ones that I love. How can I leave them to grieving? How many times was I near death and only their love returned me to life, showed me the way through the shadows? How can I abandon the
Like Moth to a FlameMelkor beholds the eldest son of Finwë in the white city of Tirion. He sees him approachhead held high, intricate robes billowing, hair braided with weaving gold and red. He sees him pass and feels the resonating power, the elegance and the confidence, and the wrath. He sees him leave, and hides a vicious smile seen by none.
Melkor beholds the greatest creations of Curufinwë Fëanáro at a great feast before the Valar. He sees their dazzling, shining light of the Two Trees, and their perfect, rounded shape. He sees the dreams of the Valar and the hopes of the Elves, and the accursed Music of Eru resounds in his ears. But more than that, his eyes are drawn to that fair face with its fiery eyes and that zealous, prideful soul.
Melkor beholds the burning spirit of Fëanor as he watches him work in his forge. He sees the unquenchable pride and voracious determination, and the will and ability to succeed magnificently. He sees the burning wrath and the cold cruel
Manwe SulimoNoblest of the Holy Ones,
First in the Thought of the One;
Lord of the Breath of Arda,
Master of air and storm.
Lord of wind and birds he is,
And rules from the tallest of mountains that be,
He is the Elder King of Arda;
Ruler of the Powers is he.
The Secret Garden"I know what you're thinking about," Nolofinwe's known, beloved voice whispered in Anaire's ear.
"Really?" she answered playfully, her eyes laughing.
"Yes," he kissed her neck and hugged her from behind. "For I'm reminded of our first meeting as well "
They were standing in a hidden spot between the many trees that surrounded 'their secret garden', as they came to view it. It seemed every child found this spot and claimed it to be his or her own, and currently their son, Findekano, was playing there with his cousin and friend, Nelyafinwe son of Feanaro.
"It was not so long ago, you know," Anaire said, turning in his arms to demand a kiss on the lips.
"Mmm true " came the reply.
Anaire laughed again. "Come. Let us leave them alone."
"Do you want to play with me?"
The girl lifted her head, surprised. She was sprawled on the grass, an opened book before her and an apple, half eaten, in her right hand. Above her stand a boy about her age, his long, black hair tied with
The Rohirrim Ride ForthBold they ride and battle-ready
Swift the horses, stern the Men
Sounds of hooves like thunder rising
Who shall ride homeward again?
Gondor calls in hour of peril
Rohan answers, ever brave
Rohirrim ride, though each man knows
Journey's end may be the grave.
Forth they ride, the Eorlingas
War's horn calls to Rohan's Men
Bravely go they to the battle
Some shall not ride homeward again.
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