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I wrote this for the Official LOTR poetry contest.
Warning! If you havent got a brilliant attention span, this may just bore you, but its your call. Enjoy.
Learned, wise, yet fell and strong,
A chieftain of men he was born to be,
Yet for all this, and his lifespan long,
From rule he would ever flee.
She the evenstar of the elder race,
As fair as nigh any from elder days,
Tall and beautiful, full of grace,
Of this elven maid poets write many lays.
He grew up tall, he grew up swift,
He lived in halls to rival lords most great,
His doom, for years to ever drift,
In warm,safe havens ne’er long to wait.
He saw her in lands of her kin,
In the woods of Rivendell his adopted home,
And he saw her! Dear Luthien!
Who in these beloved woods did roam.
“Why call me by that name?” she said with a smile,
“I think you to be her Indeed, daughter of Thingol”
Said he, “I am her kin, I am Arwen Undomiel”
Said she, and Arathorns son had his heart stole.
He spoke with his mother, and she deemed him troubled,
“My son, what hath befallen thee?” she said.
Then he told her, of his love that within him bubbled,
That after she spoke with him,his intent by Elrond was easily read.
“Your doom it is, to wander to heights last seen,
By your kin when Elendil walked this earth,
Or to fall to the depths your race has long been,
And to stride with them to shadow and death.”
“Yet no mans daughter shalt thou bind,
To you in love and wedded bliss,
Till we shall in the right time find,
You worthy of mortal woman or maid of Elfinesse.”
Thus spoke Elrond, and Aragorn was full of woe,
“Can it be my mother has informed you of this,
My love for your daughter which doth grow,
With each passing moment, that image of bliss?”
“Your eyes are traitors to your feelings,
I read them as if it were written in a book,
Yet Arwens heart, is too great for the stealing,
By even the heir of Numenor, to take a look.”
“The doom of choice for her is far away,
In years of Men to hope to name,
That while I live under middle earths Day,
Then her immortality shall stay the same.”
But Aragorn had looked and seen,
What his kinsman Beren had, and the same he did,
They both beheld where fair elven light had been,
And ever would be , and never was hid.
“Yet My lord Elrond, so must it be,
that Arwen must decide whether or not,
She stays in middle earth, for it paying immortality,
Or to leave for Aman, with the undying to throw in her lot.”
“We shall say no more” said he
And Aragorn began to prepare to be gone,
He took leave of his mother lovingly,
And went off to fight against the servants of Sauron.
Then for three decades of battle and wandering,
Aragorn fought the thralls of the Servant of morgoth,
Over valleys green and on seas sundering,
Fighting Mannish servants of that evil king and the corrupted glamhoth.
Thus became this man, greater than ordinary men,
A peer to the elven lords,learned of elvish lore,
A master of woodcraft, studied long in grassy fen,
By night he strode, through caverns shade and dark, secret doors.
Allies he made, among them Gandalf the Wise,
Greatest of the wizards then , save Saruman the White,
Uncovering plots in burning wastes or stormy skies,
Or besides his brethren Dunedain great evils to fight.
A man most stern, and grim faced he looked,
Yet to men, when a smile came o’er his rocky face,
His manner was kingly, no darkenss he brooked,
To men seemed a lord in exile, of a long lost race.
By land and sea, He fought and rode
With the lords of the plains,Rohirrim, born cavalry,
And on the deck of a great ship his restless feet strode,
There he stood under the banner of the White tree.
Then went to the land of the singing gold,
Laurenlindorenan, or the Dreamflower fair,
There, his manner was no longer cold,
His burden taken from him, Made free from care.
And on the hill where Amroth stood many ages before,
Stood his love, the fair Arwen Evenstar,
He crowned as a Elf Lord of years of yore,
And together they in love wandered far.
Their love they pledged to each other,
Where the grass undying lay,
To ne’er tread the ships with her dear father,
To forsake the life beyond a rolling ocean grey.
The choice of his daughter Elrond learned,
Which brought nought save grief and sorrow,
His heart flamed not hot, but cold did burn,
Yet in loss would see time to Men borrowed.
“My daughter shall not sacrfice her lifes grace,
To take the road to deaths lonely door,
Her loveliness, her beautiful face,
Will only be wed to the king of Gondor and Arnor.”
These two spoke no more about this matter,
And outside Sauron grew strong and rebuilt Barad Dur,
Meanwhile Arwen in hope that Aragorns aim would not stutter,
And made him a standard, worthy of the Heir of Numenor.
After several winters, Gilraen returned to her Kin,
That in Eriador did live,aged by great care,
That in the north, the lands of lonely glen,
She waited for her last audience with her son there.
He came to her, and she spoke with a tired voice,
To Estel, who had become like unto an elf,
She told him, despite protests, that she made her choice,
“I gave hope to the Dunedain, I kept none for Myself”
Aragorn left his mother dear ,
With heavy heart that would stop birds sing,
Some time after, he was faced with his fear,
She died ere the next spring.
Then came on the events of the war of the Ring,
Those years of consequence, Joy and woe,
When he came to the aid of the city of Kings,
On the fields of Pellenor in his banner the wind did blow.
After the last battle was fought, Aragorn became the king,
There the line of royalty , long lost was restored,
There Elrond on a grey horse did bring,
Arwen the Evenstar, that her and Aragorn by love may be moored.
The parting of Elrond and Arwen was of all moments ever,
The bitterest of all that in tale of words is told,
The tears flowed like Anduin, that mighty river,
Him preparing to go west, That lord ancient and old.
The One was no more, and the Three were diminshed,
And all things that were sustained by them would fade in time,
Making the Tale of the Nolder, all but finished,
Yet still the beauty of the elf lands, tis greater than can be said in Rhyme.
After six score years as queen in bliss,
As queen of a kingdom, the Kings lovely wife,
Aragorn, wishing to not die old and witless,
As the kings of old, would willingly relinquish his life.
She would dissuade him, but his mind was made up,
That despite all that she might entreat,
That he was sure he would his life give up,
And saying his farewells to kin, trod down the silent street.
There ended the last numenorean, Aragorn Elessar,
His majesty, his splendour without earthly end,
In grief Arwens feet, they wandered far,
To take her to the land of her kin, in far Lorien.
There on the hill on which they first had vowed their love,
Arwen undomiel laid down her life, and her spirit did flee,
To the halls of the west,lying on Cerin Amroth, in the mallorn grove
To be forgotten by later men and women, east of the Sorrowing sea.
Thus the image of Luthien that was on the earth,
That saved the kingship of men, at such a great cost,
That when she faded, lost was all mirth,
The last vision of the Beloved of the elves was forever lost.
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"This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck? "
Last edited by mephiston, lord of death on September 30th, 2007, 6:22 am, edited 1 time in total.
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That's beautiful! *applauds*
