*I own nothing; Tolkien owns everything. ~ Nori
A Mortal Heart's Lament
Hearken to me while I tell
Of Legolas Thranduilion.
Born in Mirkwood's deep green shadows,
A noble Elf-King's son.
He never married, so they say,
Though why I do not know.
For he had powers to touch the heart
Beyond the status quo.
A handsome face, with high cheekbones;
A strong and noble chin.
But what's in that? It might be said
Of all the Elven kin.
I'll try to tell, so you can see,
What made him so unique.
Though I thought that in my heart
These secrets I would keep.
His hair was silky, straight and long:
None fairer could you meet.
Its hue recalled the full-moon light
On fresh-cut folds of wheat.
His hands could rouse a lover's bliss,
Or conduct an enemy's woe:
Slender, callused, strong as steel,
As gentle as a doe.
His eyes were bright and blue, and keen
As the blade of his white knife.
His bow might judge you, find you wanting,
And quickly claim your life.
He left Rivendell a boy
(Boyish as an Elf can be).
His heart was light through war and loss,
Until he heard the Sea.
For he was Silvan, as you may know,
And in their hearts there lulls
The call of long-sought Western lands,
The crying of the gulls.
Loyalty kept him here a while:
He would not leave his friends;
But when Elessar gave up his life,
He left Ithilien.
With him his dear friend Gimli went.
They boarded a fair grey ship
And sailed in search of Tol Eressëa,
Last of the Fellowship.
'Tis said that he was fair of face
Beyond the measure of Men.
My heart knows that this is true.
It also knows that when
He parted from these shores forever,
Seeking Elvenhome,
He left behind a greyer world
Where I am doomed to roam.
The Elves have sailed or faded;
The stars seem dim as well.
And whether they will be rekindled,
Only time will tell.
A Mortal Heart's Lament
Hearken to me while I tell
Of Legolas Thranduilion.
Born in Mirkwood's deep green shadows,
A noble Elf-King's son.
He never married, so they say,
Though why I do not know.
For he had powers to touch the heart
Beyond the status quo.
A handsome face, with high cheekbones;
A strong and noble chin.
But what's in that? It might be said
Of all the Elven kin.
I'll try to tell, so you can see,
What made him so unique.
Though I thought that in my heart
These secrets I would keep.
His hair was silky, straight and long:
None fairer could you meet.
Its hue recalled the full-moon light
On fresh-cut folds of wheat.
His hands could rouse a lover's bliss,
Or conduct an enemy's woe:
Slender, callused, strong as steel,
As gentle as a doe.
His eyes were bright and blue, and keen
As the blade of his white knife.
His bow might judge you, find you wanting,
And quickly claim your life.
He left Rivendell a boy
(Boyish as an Elf can be).
His heart was light through war and loss,
Until he heard the Sea.
For he was Silvan, as you may know,
And in their hearts there lulls
The call of long-sought Western lands,
The crying of the gulls.
Loyalty kept him here a while:
He would not leave his friends;
But when Elessar gave up his life,
He left Ithilien.
With him his dear friend Gimli went.
They boarded a fair grey ship
And sailed in search of Tol Eressëa,
Last of the Fellowship.
'Tis said that he was fair of face
Beyond the measure of Men.
My heart knows that this is true.
It also knows that when
He parted from these shores forever,
Seeking Elvenhome,
He left behind a greyer world
Where I am doomed to roam.
The Elves have sailed or faded;
The stars seem dim as well.
And whether they will be rekindled,
Only time will tell.