Along the quay, of hope bereaved
No longer lax when facing choice.
High stakes, to raze and to deceive;
Justice demands this single voice.
To valor’s side came an aid uncalled,
Not axing his plans but seeking to quicken them
In this zealous way fearsome to recall,
He was joined by fierce loyalty’s brightest gem.
This brother made true in all but kin:
Steadfast in journey, tho’ it grieved his strength.
His soul was taxed, but gazed unfaltering
Lending quiet presence the weary length.
They traveled deep in journey grim
By hazy smoke and withered crust
As a quarry hunted in fire and dim
Past exhaustion’s bounds because they must.
Triumphant victory was hard to gain
Joyless and worn, death life exchanged
By fire’s edge they were freed, yet pained
As the Eagles quickened into the azure range.
Lifted beyond the hellish mountain to defy,
Jeweled lava wending a vain path, reaching –
Zeal of their escort bore them up into the sky,
Quelling execution, and a new hope teaching.
Ol' sly fox watched four hobbits snoring
Now that's very quirky, by the way, he thought
as he jumped past the River Roaring
sneezing like he had a nasty cold, caught
Now why do you suppose ol' fox wondered
as he zipped along through the vast wood
Would be quite a fright as he cooly meandered
Next time he knew just to ask while he could
Why would a hobbit sleep in the wild?
Just quit thinking is what I should do
For knowing about that very answer, my child
Might land my plump self in six zoos
It should be no concern of mine
For ol' fox cannot fix such a thing
If wee folk with great zeal and design
Plan to journey on a quest with an evil ring!
Treebeard, a fine six-limbed creature, was he,
lived in Wellinghall, a place of beautiful stone
Always zealously looking for Entwives, you see
they must have journeyed quite far from home
When the wicked wizard destroyed his friends,
he called for an Entmoot to justify a war
While he quickly fixed drinks, and said, "it depends
on how angry we get before we even the score"
Next he grabbed Merry and Pippin to take them away
to Isengards evil tower, humming fine tunes as he went
Could it be, he sweetly inquired, walls are not so strong?
and would turn to zeros if the river just was sent
Before the pale sun reaches its zenith, he vowed,
we will make the white coward tremble in his boots
and it may be firmly affixed as not being allowed,
great trees are just burned by quaint orcs in suits.
From the top of cold Caradhras he stares down,
a look of puzzlement in his eyes, on his brow.
No memories are clear, he thinks with a frown,
quietly flexes joints, gives a sigh ‘what now?’
From the heavens above flies a feathered friend,
Gwaihir lands with expert care, no breeze causing.
‘On this quest I have been sent, my help I lend.
Golden Lady knew just where to send my wing.’
‘Ever am I fated to be your burden,’
His first words are spoken with quiet sadness.
‘I judged you exactly the same old friend,
now hold my claw, with zeal we’ll fly, in brightness.’
From the beginning Gandalf showed quixotic prowess,
Existing as guardian, an Istari, a wizard.
Jaded was he, from Valinor sent,
Yet most knew him not.
Quickly leading the Fellowship on a journey of exile,
Caradhras defeated them, whither then?
Ever pursued, attacked by wargs,
He led them to Moria, to Khazad-dum.
Through the quagmire* of Azanulbizar,
Where years before fell Azog the orc,
Invisible knelt the gate of jewels wrought,
All despaired, except the Grey Pilgrim.
Evil surrounded Khazad-dum,
Quenching light, life and hope.
Willpower expired, yet to enter was their doom,
The West Gate jammed shut behind them.
Through the jeopardy of the Dwarrow-dwelf
He led them, never quailing.
In Mazarbul he read extracts from Ori's book-
Drums, drums in the deep...
When at last he fell, the light quenched,
Their hearts froze, the jagged bridge broke,
Calling aloud "Fly you fools!"
He fell embroiled with the execrable flame.
Devestated with grief, the eight survivors paused,
What hope did they have without Mithrandir?
*Dimrill Dale could hardly be called a 'quagmire' but getting words with q in them was soooooo difficult! Forgive me!
In Lothlorien, when he came there,
Gloin's son amazed elvenfolk fair.
When the queen bade him, "Speak,
What small token you seek."
He just sighed, "None, save your flaxen hair."
This tale will tell of a razor sharp axe,
That vanquished orcs both foul and cruel.
In the hands of Gimli it was not lax,
And he kept it polished as if a shiny jewel.
He brought it with to Rivendell,
This axe he prized more than sword or bow,
For dwarves as anyone can tell,
Can swing an axe just as quickly we know.
And in Moria, proud Khazad-Dhum,
The travelers journeyed a darker course,
Though wizard fell to supposed doom,
Both axe and dwarf still quested forth.
At Edoras, Rohan’s Golden Hall,
The axe and dwarf divided there,
But the wizard’s staff was more on call,
And just as quickly brought repair.
At Helm’s Deep the axe was quite a prize,
We know from those who give account,
For against magic bow and elvish eyes,
The Axe still had just one higher count!
An ancient, wizened tree am I,
My bark is thick, jammed full of ire:
Vain yearning for a sleepy axe,
Quickened zeal of the Shire.
Will the huorns quest too far?
Their rage is dark, canny for blood.
Saruman’s lax, his door ajar,
Zen’s peaceful view is soon a flood.
I cannot hold their grasping back,
My trees were felled, extinct their tale.
Perilous how the woodlands crack
Til justice quells this zealous vale.
These two hobbits small and quick
Sized to fit below my knees,
Knew exactly how plants tick,
Rousing revenge from jaded tree