Wanderer
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this poem.
Author's Notes: A poem, directed to Arwen, after Aragorn dies, before she
does. This is a poem about forgiveness, more than anything else.
It is silent in the forest
But the stars are shining bright
It is cold and it is lonely
On this god-forsaken night.
The forest seems to whisper
Yes, of hope-but more of pain,
Pain for all we have desired-
For our hopes are all in vain.
You seek peace, perhaps forgiveness
From the silent, dying trees.
Ever watching, ever waiting
For your pain at last to cease.
You remember things long past
As you slowly fade away.
You simply can't remember
The last time you found joy by day.
By the night, you ever wander
Searching for a long-lost place
A place of hope and life and laughter,
But you search harder for his face.
You miss his eyes-they're full of wisdom
Full of life and hope and tears
But your beloved's shining eyes
Have faded with the fading years.
You miss his smile-the way he smiled
When he saw his first-born son.
And your silent tears are falling now-
That first-born was the only one.
But more than anything, perhaps,
What you miss most are his hands.
Hands of a healer and a killer.
Hands that were worth these dying lands.
I saw you once, fair Wanderer,
You saw me and were afraid.
I knew all about your story,
Of your joy, and of your pain.
And I wondered then, fair Wanderer,
If you'd made a foolish choice.
Was the love worth all the sorrow
Of hearing his now-silent voice?
You are all alone, fair Wanderer,
Melding into shadows black
And I wonder if, in loneliness,
You would that choice take back.
But you smiled once, fair Wanderer-
How you managed, I don't know-
And you whispered, "It was worth it."
Then back into your pain you go.
It is silent in the forest,
And the stars are shining bright.
And right now, my darling daughter,
I believe your choice was right.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this poem.
Author's Notes: A poem, directed to Arwen, after Aragorn dies, before she
does. This is a poem about forgiveness, more than anything else.
It is silent in the forest
But the stars are shining bright
It is cold and it is lonely
On this god-forsaken night.
The forest seems to whisper
Yes, of hope-but more of pain,
Pain for all we have desired-
For our hopes are all in vain.
You seek peace, perhaps forgiveness
From the silent, dying trees.
Ever watching, ever waiting
For your pain at last to cease.
You remember things long past
As you slowly fade away.
You simply can't remember
The last time you found joy by day.
By the night, you ever wander
Searching for a long-lost place
A place of hope and life and laughter,
But you search harder for his face.
You miss his eyes-they're full of wisdom
Full of life and hope and tears
But your beloved's shining eyes
Have faded with the fading years.
You miss his smile-the way he smiled
When he saw his first-born son.
And your silent tears are falling now-
That first-born was the only one.
But more than anything, perhaps,
What you miss most are his hands.
Hands of a healer and a killer.
Hands that were worth these dying lands.
I saw you once, fair Wanderer,
You saw me and were afraid.
I knew all about your story,
Of your joy, and of your pain.
And I wondered then, fair Wanderer,
If you'd made a foolish choice.
Was the love worth all the sorrow
Of hearing his now-silent voice?
You are all alone, fair Wanderer,
Melding into shadows black
And I wonder if, in loneliness,
You would that choice take back.
But you smiled once, fair Wanderer-
How you managed, I don't know-
And you whispered, "It was worth it."
Then back into your pain you go.
It is silent in the forest,
And the stars are shining bright.
And right now, my darling daughter,
I believe your choice was right.