Whether or No

- jan-u-wine
Whether or No (the Tale of the Elf who Wasn't)


I remember
the sweet, round tones
of his small voice,
like a bird, glad
at greeting the Sun,
like a sapling,
tender leaves
embracing the sky.

So serious he is,
child-round hand
pulling at my sleeve.

I see from his eyes
there is mending
of another sort
as needs looking after.

My needle finds its rest
within the woven basket.

could I deny him

I gather him to me,
small , serious one.

there is an Elf,

an Elf,
upon the Hill.'

There, now.

This is what comes
of  the Old Masters'
of dragons and gold,
There is no help
for it
but that I must
the Elf.

Up the Hill we climb,
sun bright as ha'pennies
about us.

Even the ditch-daisies
nod and  smile as
we pass.

Save us.

A voice like Spring rain
upon leaves
words in a tongue
I cannot understand.

A fair face,
dark framed
like the pictures in
Old Master's books,
puzzles above them,
brow curious.

Even the hidden sweep
of ear
seems questioning,

A strange Elf,
to be  sure:

an Elf whose braces
support short breeks,
an Elf whose
unquiet feet,
restless in the warming grass
are as clad with curling hair
as mine own.
I leave them there,
intent upon I-know-not-what,
in the back garden.

The young master
and my little Samwise.

I know they shall be
great friends.