Parallel
This is just a musing I've had for a little while, one of the bursts of inspiration that has to be indulged... hopefully someone enjoys it.
Tark's Work
He is Aragorn, and he is Estel
And he walks in the woods
Of Imladris, of Rivendell
And his eye alights on her-
She who is Arwen, who is Undómiel.
He calls, he calls to her-
In a moment's span
The wood is Neldoreth, in Doriath
And he is Beren
And she, Tinúviel.
His heart is light, and yet aflame
For her laughter breaks the spell
And she asks, "Why do you call me
By the name
Of Tinúviel?"
He replies, as best he can
Entranced by her
And though she tells him
She is Elrond's daughter
Long in Lothlórien
His heart says, "Lúthien."
His mortal lineage, once so proud and fair
Dwindles to obscurity
In the shadows of her hair.
His name that seemed so high
Is but a vassal, swearing fealty
To the grayness of her eyes.
She is Evenstar, she is Arwen
But yet her heart is still
For he is Beren
And she,Tinúviel
And she must flee
Or face mortality.
He is Elrond, he is Elven
And as he meets the gaze
Of Estel, of Aragorn
He sees no foster son
A mortal elven-raised
But a suitor, crowned with doom
And he is Elu, he is Thingol
Kingship glitters like a Silmaril
'Twixt Beren and Tinúviel.
She is Gilraen, she is Hopeless
And she is Man-hearted, she is Emeldir
For she has only one lingering fear
That her son, like his sire
From that hated wilderness-
So treacherous, perilous, pitiless
So sere, drear, severe-
Might never come back to her.
She is the Lady, she is Galadriel
She walks amidst the golden trees
Her age-long friends, she knows them well.
In joy she sings, an Elvenminstrel
And she is Daeron, an espying Shadow
For upon Cerin Amroth
Tinúviel does not flee- now
She loves a stranger from the wild
And pledges him her troth.
She is Celebrían, and she weeps
Across the leagues that lie between
On the far side of a great, gray sea.
For she knows, for she foresees.
That she is Melian, and she is bereaved.
He is Sauron, he is Abhorred
Annatar brings no gifts now
But ire, fire, spear and sword
War, scimitar, Orc and Red Arrows.
And he is Morgoth, he is Bauglir
But he is doomed to lose his Jewel
And Beren to claim Tinúviel.
He is Elrond, he is grieved
For he must leave
His only daughter.
And he is Elu, he is Thingol
And he yields the promised treasure
(His Lúthien, his Tinúviel)
On a Midyear's Eve.
She is Undómiel no more, she is Evenstar quenched
For he is Beren, but he is dead
Her tears are as the dew, and the grass is drenched
As she weeps, bitterly.
And she is Lúthien, she is Tinúviel
And this is her choice fulfilled
This is mortality.