Notebook flipped open to an empty page
Pencil in hand, eraser in range
A mess of ideas desperately waiting to be written
But yet I think to myself, "Where is my inspiration?!"
Empty, like a useless vessel, I feel
If I was really blessed with such an incredible gift
Why am I not pouring it out to the world?
Oh what a God-given gift I have blessed with!
The gift to design a world of my own
The gift to sing without a voice
The gift to fly on the wings of the wind
Frodo’s Thoughts
Frodo meditates while walking to Crickhollow.
*Walking. Large strides, heavy heart, dark thoughts.*
“Start walking.
I wonder where Gandalf is? I’ve never known him to be truly late before, though sometimes you would think he was.
Here are a list of tips (instructions) for when you enter, are in, and leaving Mirkwood.
Dark the shadows flee
Amid the empty valley
Grass shriveled, dead, dreary
Rocks ring hollow memories
Deep voices lost in stone
Silenced, the children’s moans
Durin’s kin dispersed alone
Lost, the hammer’s low tones
Came thither the dragon red
Flame, smoke, ruin, dread
Followed the wind, his breath
Hovered under his malicious head
Ruin he brought there
The Lonely Mountain bare
Smaug upon his bed rare
Gold, rubies, emeralds, fair
Shadows lay somber dismissing laughter
The hanging stars presently concealed
Though in eyes of the elf they still shine
He stands steady amid the field
Tireless, gazing along the path
Resting the eagerness of mind
The pale moon now comes forth
From under the blanket of dense cloud
Reflects on the bow between swift fingers
Glitters on the work of great endeavoring
Made fairly, the bow from Caras Galadhon
For use of the elves who in Lorien linger
It all started when mom and I were driving to a Pro-Life meeting. Mom asked me to read to her the Council of Elrond from the “Fellowship of the Ring” by J.R.R Tolkien. I read to her for probably forty out of the forty-five minute drive to a friend’s house. After we stopped there, we were off again for another thirty minute drive.
He journeyed through a land of webs
A labyrinth of magic spells
He came from distant wild lands
Wearied by paths through hills and dells
Fate walked with that man that day
As he wandered through the maze
Not lost was he, but lost he seemed
As he stepped with haunted gaze
Sorrow lay upon his brow
And weariness rode his shoulders
Yet all sadness lifted from his back
When once he did behold her
There in the light of moon and stars
Danced a maiden bright
Dark of hair with raiment blue
Riding down the Dike into the trees
Dark and tangled hang the leaves
Gimli looks in uneasy thoughts
Legolas looks in wonder and awe
Forth Three Hunters! Time is brief!
Out from under the trees’ dark boughs
The riders hear the cry of Legolas
In the forest standing still, eyes he sees
Walking forward out from under the eaves
Forth Three Hunters! Linger not!