Story [Lord of the Rings] Meanderings in Middle Earth - poetry, drabbles, and vignettes. (Updated 9/27/17)

Author note: Meanderings in Middle Earth will be my home for Lord of the Rings fodder. I have recently started the LOTR trilogy and an nearly done with The Fellowship of the Ring. I confess that I am taking this journey on unabridged audiobook. I read The Hobbit as a young man, but could not engage LOTR. I have recently been challenged by a Tolkienite friend of mine to take the audio quest if nothing else. I have done so and have enjoyed myself.

Recently, at work, my supervisor revived an old tradition of his called the haiku corner. He has challenged us to write a handful of haiku related to our business. I did so, but took it a step further which you will see below. I hope you will enjoy my first, if relatively simple, foray into LOTR fan fiction. Perhaps it will generate more inspiration. Without further ado, here are six Tolkien haiku for you.

Nine shadow riders
Scattered by fierce flood
Lose their precious prey

The Grey on the bridge
Sends evil monster toppling
Cannot duck last ditch

Kingdom heir hidden
In muddy secret battle
To save innocents

Silly So and So
Clutches earthy powers close
While patrolling home

Wisdom from the throne
Weary of eternity
Sends the Fellowship

Piercing eye unnerves
Through murky mirror's water
Destiny's keeper

 

Wonderful and lyrical verses.

 

WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Thanks, Nyota! I appreciate your support.

Mira_Jade: I thought you might like this, Mira, but I am still wary of entering such dense, rich fandom. Let me know how I do.

Despair

Moments had passed since Gandalf had urged him to run. Neither he nor Boromir had moved, standing at the Wizard's side like the pillars of his ancestors. It was not the practice of either Strider, the woodland Ranger, or Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor, to run from a fight. It was, however, in his experience to know when a fight was not in his power to win. He took a step toward the rest of the party, already at the other end of the bridge. Gandalf's staff grew brighter and the seething, fiery blackness of the Balrog was thrown into the pit.

Aragorn watched as the unnatural beast fell, its cord of flame trailing behind it. He allowed himself a breath, a split second of victory, before that very breath was stripped from his lungs. The cord of flame wrapped itself around Gandalf's foot, and pulled him violently into pit. His mouth fell open. He stared at the empty spot where his friend stood but a moment ago. The victory he felt was now exhaled and the bitter taste of despair was on his tongue. He was Aragorn, the man who would be king. Was such a thing any longer possible?

 

Superb I could just picture that exact moment when victory turned to shocked despair, not just for Aragorn but for the rest of the Fellowship as well. Those are exactly the thoughts he would have too-- thinking of his own destiny, the likelihood of the Fellowship's quest succeeding after such a loss.

 

WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, Mira_Jade: Thank you both for responding to my meager offering. I am now near the end of 'The Return of the King'.

Wall

When Faramir first laid eyes on the Lady Eowyn, he was pierced through the heart with love born on pity, for the snow whiteness of her skin was matched only by the icy coldness of her countenance. Her physical wounds were all but healed, but something more, some bitter rebuke or some desire to be more than a woman was expected to be resided in her. It was more than even those things, Faramir sensed. Did she love another? She appeared to harbor secret pain, a pain rooted in despair but displaying in a frosty distance from his undaunted advances.


Bridge

At length, Eowyn grew tired of the relative isolation of the Houses of Healing. She had already been given leave to roam the castle by Faramir, but he tarried in the Garden and she would not go there and lead him into unrealistic expectations. As she wandered through the halls, her seemingly aimless path led her to the battlements that overlooked the very place she intended to avoid. She saw him there, the newly healed Steward of Gondor, a man who had also lost a father, though they were estranged. What ever pain or grief he bore, it was not present in his features for they were alight as the sun and his blissful smile drew her to him though she battled her mind on the matter. Before she knew it, she was at his side asking for news she had already heard.

 

Superb insights and characterizations of two courageous persons who are suffering losses and still find unexpected and not-looked-for love and happiness. Your descriptions of Dowyn is especially spot-on target. I love the sense that almost unwittingly but inexorably she is drawn to Faramir.

 

Solitude Among the Sinister
Gandalf

If I had ever relied too heavily upon it, my pride would be injured. However, I am not a proud man, per se. As I sit on the pinnacle of Orthanc, I wonder at both how Saruman's turn to evil escaped my notice and how he was able to best me in battle. Perhaps his taunt about the halfling weed is not so far off the mark. Has it dulled my wits? It pains me to see my old friend so twisted in his judgments. As I peer over the edge of this tower, I see that he is no passive ally to Mordor. Trees are culled, iron is beaten, and monstrosities are born from the bowels of the earth. Isengard weeps and I feel its sorrow. Even so, my hope is not extinguished.

Even though I was not able to meet Frodo at the prancing pony, I made sure that they would be in good hands, even if those hands were not aware that they would soon be put to work. Am I able to see the future? Can I be certain of the Ring's safety. No. I cannot. However, the Prancing Pony is the place where the Ranger Strider often lays his head and I am certain he would not let them come to harm. I pray that their path to Rivendale is straight and without delay.

Saruman has done well to throw me to this height. Escape is near impossible. I have been here for days and my wits and power have failed me. I grow weary of seeking escape where there is none to be found. If providence would be so generous, even the smallest window of opportunity would be much appreciated.

Horse and Halfling
Arwen

Aragorn said to ride hard and not look back. Did he expect any less? I am still but one and they are nine. Though I am an elf, and equal to the task of evading the undead, they are not mere orcs or goblins. They are so close. Their foul odor is in my nose. Though my eyes are forward, I can sense the closest wraith reaching for the Ring, grabbing at Hobbit to pull him from my grasp. I whisper to my steed to charge ahead. As they chase me from the open into a copse of trees, it takes all my strength and concentration to hang on to Frodo as I dodge and jink through the stand. My goal was to make the river, to cross into the land of my people, the Elves. We would be safe there, safer than here, in the land of men.

We emerged on the river bank and quickly crossed. Immediately felt the welcome of my land and my confidence grew as did my power. I could hear the protestations of the wraith's ghoulish mounts as they reared up at the river's edge. I risked a turn to look at them, drawing my blade in case battle was imminent. The Nazgul were still as were their mounts. we faced off across the shallow river. Our River. I knew what must be done to save Frodo and get him to Elrond in time.

"If you want him," I taunted. "Come and get him!"

While I waited for them to react, I called on the power of the land and my Lord Elrond. As the wraiths entered the water, a giant wave burst through the fjord washing the ghouls down stream. I did not terry to revel in my handiwork, but rode like the wind to Rivendale.

 

Great reflections/introspection from Gandalf and a riveting dash to safety in the second scene!

 

Speaking in Wormtongue

My name is...My name is...Theo-den. My son...I am an ally of Sarumon. No! I am a neutral party. The movement of orcs is not my concern. It is enough of a burden to rule my own lands. My niece and nephew clamor for action as they warn of evil rising in the East. Their pleas buzz in my ears like gnats, but I have no strength to bat them away. Loyal Wormtongue will rid me of this ceaseless buzzing. He says there is no evil in the East. Only strength. A magnificent strength that must not be challenged.

What do I know of strength? Of power? I am old and weak. My son...Eowyn says the people starve and my men...my horse-riders roam the hills, aimlessly. Eowyn liiieeesss. She stirs trouble and wants...wants her brother as king. My riders are loyal and serve only me. Eomer would have them for himself. Wormtongue has promised...

I believe my son is dead. My loyal adviser says it is so, but does not want me burdened with preparations. He said a funeral would make me ill, perhaps so much so that I would not recover. He knows I mourn, or perhaps he does not want me to. Worntongue is a good man. He watches over me. My SON is DEAD! The people will mourn him! My heart itches. It is a dull itch that I can not raise a hand to scratch. There is something there. Something under-neath. Some truth. My eyes are heavy as is my heart. I will sleep now. I will sleep in death with my son.

 

Superb!! We definitely see the morasse and poisonous influence of Wormtongue.

 

Great writing showing details in the books and movies

 

What a great collection of Middle-earth drabbles to stumble upon! They really give a glimpse of the thoughts and POV's of different characters which I really enjoyed, especially on Gandalf's introspection and thoughts of his old friend turning to evil.

I wasn't a huge fan of the movie inserting Arwen into this very scene because back then I was a huge Tolkien purist who was all, " HEY that didn't happen in the books!!!!1" but now that I see it written out from her perspective, I actually quite like that they did put her in the actual film and enjoy this scene.

Also, that entry with Théoden's tortured self and Wormtongue worming his mind (no pun intended) was really sad to read but you did a great job showing the inner conflict of resisting the influence!

I hope you decide to someday resume these drabbles; they're great fun to read and with so many possibilities and perspectives of various characters.