Well. this is my first post here. *gulps* here goes.
~ Contemplating ~
A/N: I wrote this for school. Hehe. Basically it's Galadriel's point of view sometime near the end of the War of the Ring. See for yourself. Reviews will be most appreciated but flames will be used to fry fish for Gollum. (evil grin)
~*~
If only. If only I had not left Valinor. If only I had not rebelled. If only Melkor had not been corrupted. If only the Silmarils had never been. If only. But now it is useless to regret. It is all past. And now I pay the price.
I sit alone by the window. It is a brilliant night, but everything, from the once-sweet birdsong to the babbling Nimrodel, they mock me. The light of the full moon is cold, devoid of feeling. Just like my world.
When I first came to Middle-Earth, I felt I would achieve my means. I rebelled against the Valar, thinking I would not need to return to Aman. In the beginning I felt my visions were true. Yet now, I feel the walls of the bower closing in on me. silent and menacing. Yet, why would it be? I have what I came to find, and more. A kingdom to rule over, renown through the land, a family as well.
But when the halfling brought the Ring to me, my first thought was that now I would have it all, all I ever desired at last. The dominion of Middle- Earth would be mine, would I just take it. Yet I would not, could not take it. Why?
A nagging voice told me to reconsider. The Ring has never brought good to any. I have been said to be well-versed in lore, accounted among the wisest of the Eldar. Why did I not apply the wisdom to myself? So I refused.
I sensed, in that moment, my wisdom was full-grown. It was a bittersweet one, for then I lay awake that night, looking back. In the silence of the dark, I saw myself as I was before. Over the distance of space and time, past words and deeds came floating back to a troubled mind.
Who would have known? I was young; rash and impetuous. The hot-headedness of youth, combined with the stubborn streak unique to Finwë's line, proved a fatal combination. I lost all my brothers to the dark forces, the cause of all that happens now. And now it has reached the time that it is too late to regret. Valinor in the west is closed to me, who finally tire of Middle-Earth. Finally is too late; wisdom has come too late. Lorien enters the autumn, winter will come. And there will be no spring, for the land fades with my feä. Under the assault of time, and of the endless fight against evil, I grow weary, and long for the healing of the west, beside the fountains, the yet untainted woods and hills of home. A deep-rooted longing has been resurfaced. One I may not answer. the sea-longing will be ignored while I fade, feä and hroä.
If only.
~*~
Feel free to comment. Blah.
~ Contemplating ~
A/N: I wrote this for school. Hehe. Basically it's Galadriel's point of view sometime near the end of the War of the Ring. See for yourself. Reviews will be most appreciated but flames will be used to fry fish for Gollum. (evil grin)
~*~
If only. If only I had not left Valinor. If only I had not rebelled. If only Melkor had not been corrupted. If only the Silmarils had never been. If only. But now it is useless to regret. It is all past. And now I pay the price.
I sit alone by the window. It is a brilliant night, but everything, from the once-sweet birdsong to the babbling Nimrodel, they mock me. The light of the full moon is cold, devoid of feeling. Just like my world.
When I first came to Middle-Earth, I felt I would achieve my means. I rebelled against the Valar, thinking I would not need to return to Aman. In the beginning I felt my visions were true. Yet now, I feel the walls of the bower closing in on me. silent and menacing. Yet, why would it be? I have what I came to find, and more. A kingdom to rule over, renown through the land, a family as well.
But when the halfling brought the Ring to me, my first thought was that now I would have it all, all I ever desired at last. The dominion of Middle- Earth would be mine, would I just take it. Yet I would not, could not take it. Why?
A nagging voice told me to reconsider. The Ring has never brought good to any. I have been said to be well-versed in lore, accounted among the wisest of the Eldar. Why did I not apply the wisdom to myself? So I refused.
I sensed, in that moment, my wisdom was full-grown. It was a bittersweet one, for then I lay awake that night, looking back. In the silence of the dark, I saw myself as I was before. Over the distance of space and time, past words and deeds came floating back to a troubled mind.
Who would have known? I was young; rash and impetuous. The hot-headedness of youth, combined with the stubborn streak unique to Finwë's line, proved a fatal combination. I lost all my brothers to the dark forces, the cause of all that happens now. And now it has reached the time that it is too late to regret. Valinor in the west is closed to me, who finally tire of Middle-Earth. Finally is too late; wisdom has come too late. Lorien enters the autumn, winter will come. And there will be no spring, for the land fades with my feä. Under the assault of time, and of the endless fight against evil, I grow weary, and long for the healing of the west, beside the fountains, the yet untainted woods and hills of home. A deep-rooted longing has been resurfaced. One I may not answer. the sea-longing will be ignored while I fade, feä and hroä.
If only.
~*~
Feel free to comment. Blah.
