Happy birthday to Tap-dancing Hobbit! Sorry I have simply no time to write a full chapter in time… All hail Tolkien as the best poet in the world, mine cannot compare to his.
In the midst of strife
Biting cold frost of the night sets in
Mingled with foul scents the East Wind brings
Shadows lurking in the darkness threaten to devour
The hour of foreboding draws nearer.
But amidst the peril and the strife, not all is wholly woe
A silver of hope appears, tingeing the prospects gold
Love still blooms like a challenging flower
In defiance it stands, and unwavering answer
Silver is her mantle, and gray is his
They met under the circumstances of urgency
One is a descendant of swan maidens
The other from the Silvan Moriquendi*
Their fates were destined to interweave harmoniously
Into each other, right from the Beginning
A myriad of melodies accompanies
Their subtle tunes, sweet and gratifying