"I Walked Along Sirion Today"
by Beruthiel's Cat
I walked down along the Sirion today
And found a poem.
Here, where the trees overhang
Dwells silence.
Above, the river gossips with geese
Below, it tumbles the laughing fishes.
But here, there is pause to daydream,
The only sound
The falling of a leaf upon water.
Excerpt from "Philosophia to Philomythus and Misomythus "
by Pandemonium_213
You say I look upon the trees and think only oak or beech,
That past their phyla and their forms, my mind will never reach.
You say I gaze upon the stars and reduce their heat to cold
Courses mathematical with no grandeur to behold.
Your lovely verse and lilting rhyme do not properly attest
To the hawk's flight of the dream that lifts the scientist
Who touches trees and sees beneath grey bark and spring-green leaf
The wondrous art within the cells as beautiful as Sheave.
Inane you call equations, view such regiment askance –
The maths that paint what fuels the sun or destroy with Shiva's dance.
But there is beauty in those numbers, just as elf-patterned and fair
As the myth that drives the Moon upon his chariot of air.
Philomythus, Misomythus - there is no black and white.
For cunning to be wrought, steel minds must soar in mythic flight:
To craft together beauty from all those barren facts;
To re-forge the Iron Crown into shining Artefacts.
Continue reading the story ...
"Laurelin"
by Dawn Felagund
Click the image for a full-sized view.
Excerpt from "Moon of the Sea, Chapter 11: Diamonds Bright"
by Pandemonium_213
We raise the sails to morning’s light
And spill the dew like diamonds bright.
The waves they crest, the waves they swell
As we bid farewell to hill and dale.
And so our journey has begun
West of the Moon and East of the Sun.
Continue reading the story ...
"Glorfindel's Dream"
by Esteliel
When first I crossed the icy sea, still young,
watched our people lost to icy death,
did I then rue the oath that was our fate?
It was not I who took the oath that doomed.
I rued death, sorrow; yet with fierce desire
- although we lost, we died - we too prevailed.
Our kings we lost, and yet their deeds prevailed,
and through defeat we learned, both old and young
to live and love and fight, to feel desire,
to grasp at life, to fearlessly greet death.
And though they said that all we wrought was doomed
right from the start, great also was our fate.
Should we have blindly given in to fate?
With loss and sorrow, laughter too prevailed,
and love and valor, though 'twas often doomed.
In Gondolin, our city proud and young
we feared not Morgoth, nor did we fear death.
Defiance there was sweeter than desire.
Ah! But you have heard of me and my desire.
Yet I cared not for rumors, not with our fate.
Why cage my heart when I awaited death?
Against all darkness, thoughts of golden hair prevailed,
of Felagund, and what I learned when young.
This thing I knew: not all I did was doomed.
One thing I yearned for, one hope doomed
forever. No curse but love thwarted desire,
the need to teach someone yet young.
Strong sons, fine daughters: such was not my fate,
though love and lust alleviated, it prevailed
so that I thought I'd bear this grief til death.
I never felt remorse until my death,
when, given form anew, I then was doomed
by my own acts. Not love but hate prevailed
in this new life. And still, I met desire,
oh, far too lovely to resist, like fate
itself had sent a prince to me, still young.
Like death I came to him, my hopes I doomed,
yet love prevailed. A child! My long desire:
at last the fate I once dreamed of when young.
"Strong sons, fine daughters" is a quote from Spiced_Wine's story "A Light in the East", and used here as a homage to her ability to write Glorfindel absolutely perfectly the way I imagine him. :)
"Seek the Horizon, Númenor's Sons"
by Dawn Felagund
Seek the horizon, Númenor's sons!
Was the blessing Manwë gave.
Seek the horizon--but not too far,
Was what he really said.
Seek the horizon, Númenor's sons,
On a sea of silver glass,
As smooth and clear as thunder-struck sand--
The hue of dirt and grit surpassed.
Seek the horizon!--but not too far.
Lest o'er the brink you pass.
To the east, to the east! Númenor's sons,
Let the scythe-curve of your keel
Cut the sea to where the new-born Sun
Makes land and mountains weal.
Where deathless kings enshroud themselves
In towers of powd'ry stone.
Return to the sea, Númenor's sons!
This land is not your home.
Seek the horizon, Númenor's sons!
Was the blessing the Powers gave.
Seek the horizon--but not too far,
Was what they meant but did not say.
To the west, to the west! Númenor's sons,
You must be cautious where you tread
For if you let familiar shores under horizon slip,
You'll pass soon into dread
Disguised as comfort and concealed as light
Crowning the top of every wave,
A beckoning hand, extended to Man
Down a path by Elf-light paved.
Seek the horizon, Númenor's sons,
But when the stars begin to fade
And from the horizon darkness flushes
Remember the warning the Powers gave--
Seek the horizon but not too far!
For when the darkness creeps too high
Too late you'll know you're on Aman's shore
Where the mountains gouge the sky.
Seek the horizon, Númenor's sons!
Mastering the perils of the deep.
Seek the horizon--but not too far,
Whence under mountains your Kings sleep.
"Tears for the Fallen"
by Pandemonium_213
He rages against the West:
Stone-hard wrath batters adamantine walls
Piled high by the pleasance where
His kin dally and plot.
Wreathed round his brow
A hell-wrought storm fumes,
But a breath of wind blows across the sky
Rending the wrack through which
Golden light glimmers and falls fair upon black boots.
He stays his iron hand
And does not mend torn clouds
But lets Anar’s light play
Upon the tortured earth before him.
Bending with the might of mountains,
He kneels and stares over the precipice of knees,
Where writhing in the ground before him
Green shoots struggle in shriveled soil, reaching for the Sun.
He watches and he listens, the first time in eons
He has considered a thing so small.
The leaves unfurl in silence,
But soon they sing with faint melody
Taking him back to the Origo
That set all in motion.
To the Beginning: one spark that gave birth
To stars, to worlds and to him.
The leaf-song swells strong
Sipping jewels of light, gifts from Anar,
Weaving the Sun into its substance,
Wheeling with the spiral dance of life.
He seizes the sorrow provoked by hopeful song,
Seeking its subjugation,
But his will cannot prevail
Against bitter loss.
One tear falls and then another;
Across hardened cheeks they track.
Upon green growth the wretched dew falls,
And distilled regret makes fertile the fallow.
White bells bloom on the touch of his tears,
And he hears their chimes
Calling for him to come home.
He wavers, but shakes off weakness.
For is he not Melkor, true ruler of Arda, he who arises in might?
He crushes sweet flowers beneath one foul foot,
Ground back into the earth whence they came.
But hope does not die so easily.
After mountains tumble and seas devour,
And the earth is cleansed,
White bells bloom again in the spring:
Tears for the fallen.
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