Title: Songlines
Author: Illwynd
Disclaimer: Tolkien gets the credit for the good. I take the blame for the bad.
Rating: G
Summary: The Eldest recalls the music of the Ainur.
Warnings: None, really. Maybe not entirely canonical, but I loved the idea of this enough I had to write it.
Notes: Much thanks to Cadiliniel for the beta! And a couple lines were taken from the books, obviously I didn't write those. Feedback always appreciated.

Song. Name. These things have power. All creatures once knew this instinctively, as did the Elves when first they sang in pure strains of wordless melody and harmony, and when first they made language (for all words are names).

Only one being who truly understands still walks in Middle-earth. He walks along the streambeds and through the forests, and he can hear the First Song. He follows the paths it makes as it creates the world anew with each perfect chord. He has heard the songs that came after; the intricate beauty of Elven song, the deep solidity of the tunes devised by Dwarves, the sonorous slow rhythms of the Ents, the resounding power of the songs of Men, the rollicking cheerfulness of Hobbit songs. He listens to the simple sounds of the forest; the whisper of wind in leaves, of water on rock, the chatter of small creatures and the chirrup of birds. He thinks that all the people of Middle-earth, however beautiful their songs may be, have forgotten something. They have forgotten that Name is power, Song is creation, and laughter is also Song.

"Old Tom Bombadil, he's a merry fellow! Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow! Hey dol derry dol ring a dong dillo! Tom Bom, jolly Tom! Tom Bombadillo!"

He sings his own name in the morning sunlight, creating himself anew, and again he hears the First Song…