Of Finrod and Bëor by losselen

Canto II: Of Finrod spying Men in the woods

II.

Of Finrod spying Men in the woods

The night was cool and Moon was clear,
a wind there gathered under shade,
it shivered on the silver mere
and shook upon the grassy glade.
For summer came and summer flew,
and gold was leaf on many trees
and clear were drops of evening dew
shaken by a sudden breeze
from upturned petals, curling fern;
and up above, remote and far
in the dark and northern sky did turn
Valacirca, star on star,
of all the world ensilvered most,
Varda’s sickle, jewel of jewels,
radiant within the shining host
and doubled in the forest pools.

And lo! he spied between the boles
a light beyond a yonder dale
as campfire leaping over coals
dancing under moonbeams pale.
He wondered whence did come this light
for Wood-land elves he knew who dwelt
there hewed no trees for warmth at night
and trapped and slew for meat or pelt
no bird or beast; for above all    
they loved the living wood and tree,
the auburn of the larches tall,
the rustling of the leafy sea,
pealing rain on the forest floor,
the trembling sway of willow-limb,
these the Green-elves loved and more;
therefore the fire troubled him
and Finrod feared that evil folk
were walking free in Ossiriand.

So shadow about him Finrod cloaked,
concealed within the wood and land
his movements subtle, his stalking stride,
and saying no more he headlong sped
towards the campfire. There he spied
not beasts or orc-shapes foul, instead
clad in roughspun clothes a folk
rejoicing in the firelight;
with unfamiliar words they spoke
as they sang beneath the starlit night.

So Felagund swiftly stilled his feet
beneath the tree-encircled shade
as dancers whirled, as drummers beat,
as harpers upon the lamb-strings played
a measure rough and quick, yet still
he heard within its melody
the gleeful turn and sudden thrill
of a music made in revelry.

Beneath the sky of autumn clear
the flaming sparks like flowers flew,
like Elven-folk some did appear
yet marked they were in mortal hue
and Finrod spied upon their face
a shadow he did not yet know
the vision of an eerie grace
that was spoken of so long ago.
From memories long and rumors dim,
forbidding words in Araman cold,
the stories Felagund recalled to him,
that Second-comers therein foretold.
When all that lay in slumber fast
arise to grace the waking earth
shall Men awake and come at last
to strath and glen, to fen and firth.
And mortal be their limb and hand
as mortal as the turning days;
brief their sojourn upon the land
and yet though fleeting be their stays
so all the brightly ere they’ve died
might blaze and burn as fires swift
their lives and deeds while they abide;
for such was Ilúvatar’s Gift.

And Finrod waited, held in place,
for wonder in his mind bestirred
a wonder at their living grace
their strain of music yet unheard,
a thought as yet unformed in mind;
though rough and strange their tune and tongue,
yet wonder in the strangeness finds
in novel words and music young.
Thus Finrod in their forms perceived    
the multiplicity of the world
more fair than Elvenesse conceived
within the Music still enfurled.

Long he stood beneath the shade
til turn by turn the dancers ceased
and embers cracked within the glade
over sleeping revelers after feast.
And casting aside his shady cloak
he walked within the fire’s light
between rustling birch and slumbering folk
quiet as the passing night.
And picking up an unused lyre
he slowly plucked its rough-made string
and seated beside the dying fire,
Finrod Felagund began to sing.