Oblivious
By Talking Hawk
Author's Note: My attempt at late-night, in-a-hurry poetry. It is a sort of prequel to "Only One Can Be Saved," but can be understood if you've seen in the movie. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you don't interpret this as slash… _
I roam about the campfire
Excitedly awaiting the feast
Good ol' Sam's preparing
I'm oblivious to the long stare
That Strider gives us
And the other hobbits
He's holding a bag
That had once held his swords many
He has given them to us
For what purpose, I do not know
"I will be gone shortly," he reassures us
But only cousin Frodo heeds him much attention
Frodo nods
Strider looks at us again
Worry in his eyes
"Are you quite sure you will be all right?"
He prods, and I nod absently
Staring at the flames beneath Sam's pan
"Of course!" I exclaim,
Waving my hand in his direction
"You go, and dinner will be ready soon."
The ranger frowns, pressing the bag to his chest
Something is bothering him
We are on Weathertop, an old tower
So he says
What is there to fear? I wonder
"Are you all right?" he asks again, unconvinced
I turn to peer at him,
A bit annoyed by the repeating of his question
"Yes!" I cry out, narrowing my eyes
I am oblivious to the apprehensive gleam in his blue eyes
The fear of a father
I am oblivious to his soft sigh
As he trods off into the darkness
I care only for my stomach
That aches to be fed
I am oblivious to his unspoken fondness
Of us, as if we were his children,
Tenderly being herded towards safety
I ignore his guiding hand, oblivious
To his caring for me, and the others
I am oblivious to the creek that appears over the grassy hill
Of the green pastures he roams us through
I fall in
Oblivious
By Talking Hawk
Author's Note: My attempt at late-night, in-a-hurry poetry. It is a sort of prequel to "Only One Can Be Saved," but can be understood if you've seen in the movie. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you don't interpret this as slash… _
I roam about the campfire
Excitedly awaiting the feast
Good ol' Sam's preparing
I'm oblivious to the long stare
That Strider gives us
And the other hobbits
He's holding a bag
That had once held his swords many
He has given them to us
For what purpose, I do not know
"I will be gone shortly," he reassures us
But only cousin Frodo heeds him much attention
Frodo nods
Strider looks at us again
Worry in his eyes
"Are you quite sure you will be all right?"
He prods, and I nod absently
Staring at the flames beneath Sam's pan
"Of course!" I exclaim,
Waving my hand in his direction
"You go, and dinner will be ready soon."
The ranger frowns, pressing the bag to his chest
Something is bothering him
We are on Weathertop, an old tower
So he says
What is there to fear? I wonder
"Are you all right?" he asks again, unconvinced
I turn to peer at him,
A bit annoyed by the repeating of his question
"Yes!" I cry out, narrowing my eyes
I am oblivious to the apprehensive gleam in his blue eyes
The fear of a father
I am oblivious to his soft sigh
As he trods off into the darkness
I care only for my stomach
That aches to be fed
I am oblivious to his unspoken fondness
Of us, as if we were his children,
Tenderly being herded towards safety
I ignore his guiding hand, oblivious
To his caring for me, and the others
I am oblivious to the creek that appears over the grassy hill
Of the green pastures he roams us through
I fall in
Oblivious