Supplication
This was a poem (not exceptionally well written, I admit) I had originally intended to include in my "Of the Home" fic, with Finrod Felagund (in his battle with the werewolf in the dungeons of Tol-in Gaurhoth) as the speaker and supplicant (hence the title). For those few who care about "Of the Home" I am still working on it. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, so I will probably never stop revisingit, even if I do manage to get the second part up. And at one point it deleted itself, and thus the delay.
Came we to these distant shores
From the blood-stained moors
Of the Swan-Haven.
Long sundered from stars, from bliss, and The Trees,
So that none should call us craven.
Varda, fair Elentári, and Manwe, who all sees,
To thee I entrust the Noldor's plea!
Here in Endore long have we fought
But often it feels we have achieved naught.
Many have fallen, many have gone,
And of them I soon will be one.
Much wrong we have done,
But still we strive for good.
Though there are deeds I would
Recall; I implore,
Abandon us not on this hither shore!
Though we rebelled, we now have paid
For many of us now in cold earthen tombs are laid.
Now clad in darkness, our raiment is death,
Stilled our laughter and ceasing our breath.
Yet struggle we shall, while we may,
We will not yield to Bauglir's sway.
For the stars, for Valinor,
For the Atani on this shore,
For Trees vanquished, light put out,
Our kindred whose lives have ended in shouts
Of pain and anguish,
For those we left in grief to languish,
For pride and for the Silmarils
For vengeance and for broken wills
For lovers lost, and stars above,
For our children,
That they may know hope and love
When there is none.
So that they might not be constrained to shun,
Light of stars, and moon, and sun
For peace and for liberty!
So that all Quendi might be free.
For all this we fought,
And all indeed, were dearly bought.
But Morgoth shall not see us cowed
To thy stars we cry, "Ai Varda Elentári, ai!"
Tintallë, kindle Hope in us now!