So, this is not the first idea for a LotR story I've had, but it is the first that has been typed up. :) As I said in the summary, this poem came from a picture of a forest beside a lake that I received as an assignment in school. I had to write a poem based on the picture, and I think it is quite good, but it was a sad poem. So when I saw the picture again, I decided to write another, happier one. Thanks to Seren Lyall, I am kind of obsessed with Lord of the Rings, so you can see where my mind immediately went! Enjoy!
Oh, two more things... nin mellonie is Sindarin for "my friends". I tell you this now because if I put the translation in the poem, it would kill the rhythm. :) The other thing; ignore all the seemingly random periods. They serve only as space markers, because I cannot seem to separate the stanzas any other way.
The wind blows,
Caressing each leaf and needle.
As I sit here, high above,
I look out and watch.
.
I watch the birds circle lazily,
The squirrels to each other give chase.
The sun, still higher than I,
Reflects on the surface of the lake.
.
Time is unmeasured as I remain.
I do not care.
Under my hand, I feel the bark
Of a tree that has seen much.
.
Horrors, pain, killing.
Attacks from boundless seas of enemies.
Ambushes set and sprung,
The outcomes; always sad.
.
Yet he still speaks to me
Of joys, and those days
That used to be.
.
This was once the mighty Greenwood,
Before the darkness had taken his friends.
He tells me of their turning,
And I weep.
.
He tells me of the time before,
The majesty of this place.
Before the shadow, before the evil, before the pain.
.
How carefree it sounds.
How I wish that time would return!
.
He tells me he thinks it will.
He knows it will.
That it will be soon.
.
This strong pine
Has weathered millennia already.
I, only a few centuries.
.
Yet I can see it.
The land of my ancestors.
Glorious, green, wild.
Alive.
.
I understand his longing
More than any race could.
Dwarves prefer dead rock,
Men their open plains.
.
Even other elves do not understand
As well as I,
For they do not hear the trees.
.
I hear the wind repeat his sigh
As it plays with the ends of my long blonde hair.
But as the tree is joyful,
Neither is the wind sad.
.
Neither I.
We sit together, stories above the ground.
My mind turns to my mentor, who has taken my parents' place.
He would tell me not to wander through the forest alone.
.
But I am not alone.
.
Though I have to walk past trees that turned,
Orcs, wargs, and children of Ungoliant,
I am not alone with the shadow.
.
There are many like this pine.
Nin mellonie.
I listen to their stories,
Share my own.
.
But mostly we sit,
Together,
And in our minds,
We are not in Mirkwood.
.
We are in Greenwood.
Home.
What did you think? Please review! OH! BEFORE YOU THINK ME EVIL, I just want to make something clear. This is not Legolas talking. I repeat; THIS IS NOT LEGOLAS! The elf in this story is actually an original character, straight from my brain! I would NEVER kill Thranduil! He's just too amazing.
*Peeks out from behind the wall* Crisis, panic, and death threats avoided?
PLEASE REVIEW! It really isn't that hard. Pick a specific part that you liked or disliked, and tell me! I would love it all! :)