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Post by anirbas on Dec 20, 2007 20:46:56 GMT -6
*I am posting this, in honor of and for Mishie, at her request...She, whom remembers, when I could actually spin a twist of snarled brain yarn into a poetical epical, back in the day.
At an alternate universe of poeming, we used to do "concept" threads...Someone would suggest an idea, and those inspired to do so, would offer up what fell out of their heads, as a result of the suggestion...It was fun, interesting to see what each individual was inspired to pen, from the suggestion...
The particular thread this piece showed up in,
was obviously honoring the greatest talespinner of all, Sir Tolkien.
He, whom I am not worthy of, in any way, shape or fashion. I have also included the prologue, I originally inserted before the piece I shared in the concept thread. It could all use some editing...I used to skip doing capitilization, as it slowed the typing process down and my fingers had to keep up with the gases escaping from my brain...Now, shutting up and giving Mish what she wanted...*
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Post by anirbas on Dec 20, 2007 20:48:41 GMT -6
nir flips her black cloak over her shoulder, as she ambles through the winding lanes and alleyways of the towering City of Kings. crossing the wide boulevards, where the narrower streets, intersect it, on her way to join her pals,at Ye Olde Strider Tavern. for a horn of mead, and a sharing of tales, of the historical dark days, of Gondor.
all of them some of the last alive to remember a time, when the kingdom had not been so peaceful as it had over the last forty years of Old King Aragorn's rule. as a matter of fact, the kingdom had enjoyed great prosperity under Old Aragorn's rule. his subjects, from commoner to courtier, were some of the richest, in the country...
he'd even had to expand the city out onto the plain, to accomodate the flood of refugees after Sauron's rampage...where once, it was the historical site, of a fateful battle, and the tide it turned, now, it was chockful of condominiums and apartment buildings.(hehe.)
reaching Ye Olde Strider Tavern, she slipped inside to join her bardic pals, her literal comrades in arms, to throw out her offering, honoring fierce, sagacious King Aragorn, the Elder, and the history of Gondor. called the Elder, sometimes, to distinguish him from his son, now creating his own exploits, Aragorn, the Younger.
anirbas
7/3/2004
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Post by anirbas on Dec 20, 2007 20:49:54 GMT -6
Once upon a time,
neither yours nor mine,
in a mythological land
blighted by the malignant Sauron-
a small, ecletic group of warriors,
set out, to finish
what they'd started.
A perilous quest,
we're all familiar with.
Amongst these brothers-in-arms,
were four pintsized Hobbits.
Bowed by a spiritual task,
was the one called Frodo.
The chosen bearer
and ultimate destroyer,
of a ring of shining gold;
and it's inherent, invidious evil.
It, crafted in the mist of history,
by the Ancients of Old.
Sam, Merry, and Pippin,
were the other
Hobbits three,
respectively.
A battle toughened,
sword skilled ranger,
was lovelorn, Aragorn;
tho' ne'er fearing danger,
he balked at his destiny.
Gandalf, a powerful wizard,
robed in white
with hair of snow;
and a righteous
staff of strong ivory.
Princely Legolas,
an agile, elegant,
fierce Elvin archer.
And last, but not least,
Gimle, a cryptic stoic,
of an ax weilding,
red bearded dwarf.
anirbas
7/3/2004 1:33 AM 24 out of 156
From the disillusioned
Theoden, the King of Rohan,
this unlikey crew
and driven band,
sought his royal audience.
To appeal for
the monarch's pledge;
and recruitment,
of his hundreds
of brawny, armor
clad, men of honor,
the Rohirrim calvary;
in defense of,
soon to be,
Sauron besieged, Gondor.
Heroically, the king agreed.
To take up hope
and arms, again
at the head
of his valient
Rohirrim calvary;
also captained
by his nephew, Eomer.
From that moment,
the sound of hardened
resolve rang across
hill and dale.
As steel struck steel,
and the song of the sword
and the battle horn
issued from Rohan,
in defense of Gondor.
In an age old war,
pitting good against evil,
neither and none,
had sought,
nor asked for.
anirbas
7/3/2004 1:45 AM 25 out of 156
On the eve afore,
this daring contingent
left to wage war
defending Gondor;
Elrond, the Elvish king,
visited Aragorn.
The inscrutable ranger,
who refused to believe,
he was the man,
born to free
and rule
a country.
His nacreous Highness, first
informed Aragorn,
of his unrequited love's
imminent,chosen death;
she being a link
betwixt the two males-
the unattainable love of one,
the beloved daughter
of the other, Arwen.
Secondly, Elrond proposed
to send the ranger,
on an emissarial mission,
to swell the thin,
tho' no less courageous ranks,
of the Rohirrim,
sworn to defend Gondor.
Up the Dark Mountain pass,
the Elvish king, did request
Aragorn go and fast!
There wasn't a moment to spare!
The aide to enlist
of a historically loathesome,
horrendously countenanced,
spectral king and his
numerically endowed,
phantasmic army.
Ectoplasmic hordes of thousands!
Cursed and banished,
with their liege,
to dimensional purgatory.
On the cusp, of dark and light,
chained by the night
that forever reigned
on the steep mountain.
Brought to such an extreme,
by their en masse cowardice,
and an unkept promise;
a broken pledge to the
last living King of Gondor,
who'd trusted them, before.
anirbas
7/3/2004 1:56 AM 26 out of 156
Aragorn was appalled,
at Elrond's request,
to say the least.
And spoke thusly,
not his literal words,
but the gist...
(Nay! I am not
the man to do this!
I am Strider, a ranger!
Not a diplomat!
Send another,
better suited at palaver.
I shall go and fight,
for Gondor,
at first light.
Not ride away
from it, tonight!)
Aragorn lacked confidence
in his ability,
to bind politically,
with his spoken word, any!
He was a warrior,
not a stateman!
Or so he thought...
Ever, Elrond insisted,
he was the only one,
this feet dragging ranger,
who could get the job done!
If he but would
make the choice,
with just his voice,
he could multiply
their numbers,
ectoplasmically!
To assauge and smooth
Aragorn's attempt to behoove
his communicative skill,
Elrond gave him a boost,
a most important key-
to bring the
multitudinous, spectral army
and their ghastly ruler,
from their mountain roost,
to bear arms and heel,
in the aide of Gondor.
anirbas
7/3/2004 2:08 AM 27 out of 156
What did Elrond give
into Aragorn's keeping,
to cease his lipping?
The sword of legend, Narsil!
Carried by the last monarch
of the City of Kings;
of whom the ranger
was a living,
distant descendant.
Narsil! Sundered by the
phantasmagoric king's
broken allegiance
and ultimate betrayal.
And his spectral Highness,
and that of his scary army,
only ticket out of purgatory,
was the fulfillment,
of his original oath of defense,
to a King of Gondor...
From Aragorn, brooking
no more arguing,
Elrond sent him, forthwith
up the Dark Mountain.
To find and enlist
those who'd been
without spleen or spine.
The voice of the legendary Narsil,
his right hand man,
on this cat's paw of a mission.
The awe inspiring steel,
miraculously reforged and crafted,
made whole and healed,
upon Elrond's commands,
by the skilled hands
of an Elvish blacksmith
and armorer.
Also, accompanying the ranger,
besides the trusty sword,
on this quest of danger,
against his vehement protest,
were Gimle and Legolas,
his friends and fellow warriors.
So, up the mountain
Aragorn went, a ranger
at Elrond's request,
to return a king.
anirbas
7/3/2004 2:15 AM 28 out of 156
Whilst this trio
went about their seperate task,
in another part of the land,
a maleficent,
behemoth of an arachnid,
was by Sam and Frodo,
encountered, on their
way to Mordor.
As they were guided,
and continually pestered,
by the manic depressive,
paranoid schizophrenic
Gollum, Smeagle.
Who bounced about
like a cranked up Beagle-
eagerly greedy and oh so needy-
to clasp the Hobbit carried
band of glimmering gold,
in his grubby, elongated
spatulate fingers,
just once more...
Before the tormented Frodo-
stupid Hobbit! let it slip, let it go,
into eternal fire, oh no!
Smeagle's thoughts,
not mine,
the narrator.
anirbas
7/3/2004 2:31 AM 29 out of 156
On the morning after,
Aragorn and company's departure,
King Theoden mustered
the meager, tho' no less
courageous forces of his
burly, armored,
sword weilding calvary,
the warriors of Rhohirrim!
Prepared and left,
for the field of battle,
beneath the magnificent
towereing, white walls of Gondor.
Now kingless, but housekept,
by the hopelessly bereft, Denethor,
it's pathetically insane steward.
Unbeknownst to King Theo,
joined on this hellish quest,
by Merry, the brave Hobbit.
Here to fore, the privilege forbade,
of riding with "the big boys",
by order of his Highness.
As well, accompanied by,
incognito, clothed as a man,
Theoden's niece, Eowyn.
A fearless maiden,
with the soul of a warrior,
able to roll with the punches.
Determined to fleece
a bad guy, or two, or three,
of her own, to protect
her loved ones and country.
Onward, they rode
these glorious Rohirrim,
and the others who swore
allegiance to King Theoden.
Over hill and dale,
through water and wood,
racing their swift steeds,
where those of fainter heart,
never would.
Onward, ever onward.
Intent, with the committment
of doing good deeds;
to willingly lay down
their lives, on a broad plain,
beneath the towers
of white walled Gondor,
in defense of it.
anirbas
7/3/2004 2:45 AM 30 out of 156
The advent of the sun's rising
brought a bone chilling morning
over the broad plain of Gondor.
No rosy, glowing dawn
for this battle day;
instead the thin light
was platinum, pearl and grey.
Out from the iron gates
of the soaring, white
stoned towers,
remorseless Denethor
sent his last surviving son, Faramir.
With not much more
than twenty men,
to scout for the first
of Sauron's slavering, Orc minions.
On a suicide mission,
the insane Gondoric
steward sent them!
Against Gandalf's urging
to wait for the Rohirrim
calvary, to join them.
None returned of these
brave Gondorians,
save Faramir.
He so mortally wounded
that he did not speak or hear.
His psychotic father, therefore,
pronounced him dead!
Ordered the building
of his son's funeral pyre,
bemoaning a situation dire!
Not the loss of his valient,
once vigorous son,
but the end of the mentally
blighted steward's bloodline!
Talk about not having
your priorities straight...
For Denethor, it was to late!
He could no longer see,
nor attention pay,
to simple logic.
Insanity had eaten up
his brain, without abate.
He was helplessly tragic.
But for Faramir there was
to be another day.
As Gandalf and Pippin
managed to save him
from the fiery death,
his father wished to
bequeth, his unappreciated son...
Instead, Denethor
by the conflagaration
he'd unjustly started,
was rightly consumed, alone.
Then all hell broke loose,
over and above Gondor.
anirbas
7/3/2004 2:59 AM 31 out of 156
As Sauron's powerful machinator,
the dreaded Witch King, arrived
above the Gondoric plain.
A black thunderbolt, was he
striking from the sky;
mounted on a hellbred,
macropterous winged,
draconic voiced monster!
Flanked by three other fiends,
guiding pitiless malefic beast,
identical to his
Evil Highness' mount.
These four humongous
flying lizards, set about,
ripping ramparts from
the towering white walls,
of besieged Gondor,
with their long, razored claws.
Snagging hapless victims
in their mayhem inducing,
insensate passes.
Discriminating, they were not!
Grasping warriors, peasants,
fathers, mothers,
lads and lasses;
then dropping them,
like unwanted fruit
from the upturned bowl
of the heavens;
to land and squish
on the bloody field
of battle below.
It would not be much longer,
before the thousands
of slimey Orcan demons,
beneath the Witch King's command,
overcame and over ran,
the historical,
City of Kings.
(thought-where's Superman, when you need him?)
anirbas
7/3/2004 3:11 AM 32 out of 156
Over the unbelievable
screams of the dying,
came a wall of sound
just beyond,
the bleak horizon.
The pounding din
of hundreds of hooves,
and the bugling notes,
of the battle horns of Rohan.
Announcing the Rohirrim calvary
and the honorable King Theoden.
Streaming over the Gondorian plain,
the Rohirrim entered the velitation
betwixt good and evil,
engaging the Orcs
from behind.
Daringly, they rode into
and fell upon,
the mutated fiends
of Sauron.
A-slashing. A-stabbing.
And a-hacking!
Veritable Berserkers they were!
Shouting as they entered the fray,
swords singing from their scabbards-
Slith!Slith!Slith!
Cling!Cling!Clang!
Cling!Cling!Clang!-
in defense of Gondor.
Whereupon, the Witch King
reined his wyvernish beast
away from rearranging
the cloud sweeping
stone walls of the
molested city,
and redirected
his villanous attention.
I need not mention,
the King's vile gaze,
stopped at Theoden.
Tho' never a farmer,
the Witch King knew,
chop off the head
of the serpent
and the body
is harmless...
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Post by anirbas on Dec 20, 2007 20:52:03 GMT -6
anirbas
7/3/2004 3:29 AM 33 out of 156
With that thought in mind,
up flew the Witch King
and descended upon,
laudable Theoden,
from his hellbred mount;
with it's wings unfurled,
throwing shadow,
over all below,
Orc scum and man, alike.
The draconic monster promptly
snapped the Rohirrim king
up, in it's wide,
razor toothed jaws.
Then pitilessly slammed
the broken man to the
blood drenched ground.
Adding insult to heinous injury,
readying to make Theo, dinner.
If not for her!
Eowyn jumped betwixt
the odious, gargantuan beast
and it's feast,
her Royal Highness,
and beloved kin.
Putting herself at hazard,
screaming something, in the vein of,
"You shall not have him!"
As she sliced the beast
terrifying mazard,
from it's serpentinic neck!
Neat as you please,
just like that!
Whereupon, the evil Witch King,
sought to bring,
Eowyn to her knees,
at the end
of a horrendously
endowed mace.
Eager to make her
take her place,
just another notch,
etched into his sword...
Boasting to her,
"No man can kill me!"
And about that,
he was right!
For a man did not
steal the Witch King's thunder
that fateful day.
Nor the darkness,
within him slay.
A woman of Rohan, did.
Out of defiant love,
for kith, kin and country!
Tho' in vain, for her
royal uncle Eowyn fought.
King Theoden died, sadly,
of his draconic wounds.
But with honor and pride,
he fought and died.
No longer disillusioned...
anirbas
7/3/2004 3:39 AM 34 out of 156
On the heels of the
sword weilding maiden's
selfless act,
defeat still
seemed imminent.
Outnumbered, as the
Rohirrim and the people
of Gongor were,
by the sheer number
of Sauron's slavering
Orcan slime.
But wait, victory was
still at hand,
as Aragorn returned,
with his old and new friends,
to save the day.
The ranger, the spearhead
of the multitudinous,
phantasmic horde.
Anxious to seal their
original pact with the ancestor
of Aragorn, to rise
to the aide of Gondor,
and win for themselves,
peace and redemption,
from cursed purgatory.
A rancorous, ectoplasmic
mob of thousands!
They swept through
the city, cleaning house
of Orcan filth.
Their glowing swords singing-
Slith!Slith!Slith!
Cling!Cling!Clang!
Cling!Cling!Clang!
Taking Sauron's fiends out
one by one,
until there were none.
Whilst out on the
carcass covered plain,
Legolas took down,
an enormous,
elephantical creature,
and it's entire
motley crew!
Only to hear,
Gimle sneer,
"That still only
counts as one..."
anirbas
7/3/2004 3:50 AM 35 out of 156
Eventide crept across
the gore and blood
soaked plain,
signaling the day
was done.
The remnants
of Sauron's twisted
moronic army
of Orcan minions,
turned round
and turned a-back,
from the ravaged walls
of the City of Kings,
retreating to their
odiferous lair.
And so it was,
that through many
selfless acts,
deeds of bravery;
overcoming of strife;
epiphanies;
and much loss
of precious life,
the safety of Gondor
was finally won.
And the White Tree,
could grow in peace...
As Aragorn, now freely
embraced his destiny,
no longer denying,
he was, afterall,
the rightful king.
But before his coronation,
he stated, and this
is the gist,
"Now onto Mordor,
to help Frodo..."
But, that is another story.
And this is a tale,
rememberancing Gondorian history.
To remind us all,
where we've come from;
and how close we came
to the precipice of hell,
and the rule of darkness.
So, next time you complain,
Old King Aragorn's taxes
are higher than they've been
in over forty years!
Just remember,
who you could
be paying taxes to, my dears!
hehe!
anirbas
7/3/2004 3:52 AM 36 out of 156
*May Tolkien, forgive me, I pray, for this, my revisioning, based on a movie revisioning, of his original story!Amen.*
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Post by anirbas on Dec 22, 2007 22:30:23 GMT -6
Glenn, Mish and Peg! Grrrrreat to see you all here!
Thanks for the read and comments, ya'll!
Don't think I can do more on this subject, Peg...It's Tolkien's...Tolkein's? Can't remember how to spell this eventide...Either way...It's his baby...I just did a sort of abridged version of it, based on the movie version of it...A quickie speel...I would like to see The Dragon Hunter
in bookform...But, just as it is...Don't want to add to it, but perhaps edit it, a bit...
Anyways, poetical folk...I soooooooooooo wish I had more time to play catch up reading and commenting and run around tagging all of you...But, I so have to work tomorrow and I'm so sick, so this sick chick is hitting the hay...
Ya'll take care of you for me, poem on and Happy Holidays!
Me? I'm sort of like the Grinch...I'm just ready for Xms to be o-v-e-r...
Wish I could sleep through the rest of the month and wake up in January 2208!!
I mean, 2008...ggglgggl...To tired, sick or just plain lazy to fix my goofups, tonight...Sabs.
Would like to know, what the heck is up with our Dawn...DG gal is worrying me...
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