Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
- TetNak
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Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
Perhaps it is the ale, but Aerth joins in with the singing. When the man sings, his voice takes on a very different tone. It sounds far more light and fair, even though perhaps it is not the greatest singing voice.
His voice sounds ... elvish ... for those that do not know better.
Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.
O stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!
O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on Western Seas.
His voice sounds ... elvish ... for those that do not know better.
Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.
O stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!
O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on Western Seas.
"Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies."
- King Stannis Baratheon, First of His Name
- King Stannis Baratheon, First of His Name
- Trogdor
- Emeritus Admin
- Posts: 27260
- Title: The Burninator
- User Class: Jedi Master
Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
We have a song about dragons in the Shire," Pipkin says, humming a tune to himself. "Let's see, how did it go?"
The dragon lay on the cherry trees
a-simmering and a-dreaming:
Green was he, and the blossom white,
and the yellow sun gleaming.
He came from the land of Finis-Terre,
from over the Blue Mountains,
Where dragons live, and the moon shines
on high white fountains.
"Please, Mister Higgins, do you know
What's a-laying in your garden?
There's a dragon in your cherry tree!"
"Eh, what? I beg your pardon?"
Mister Higgins fetched the garden hose,
and the dragon woke from dreaming;
He blinked, and cocked his long green ears
when he felt the water streaming.
"How cool," he said, "delightfully cool
are Mister Higgins' fountains!
I'll sit and sing till the moon comes,
as they sing beyond the mountains;
And Higgins, and his neighbours, Box,
Miss Biggins and old Tupper,
Will be enchanted by my voice:
they will enjoy their supper!"
They poked with poles from underneath
(where he was rather tender):
The dragon gave a dreadful cry
and rose like thunder.
He smashed the town to smithereens,
and over the Bay of Bimble
Sailors could see the burning red
from Bumpus Head to Trimble.
"None of them now have the wit to admire
a dragon's song or colour,
Nor the nerve with steel to meet his fire -
the world is getting duller!"
He spread his wide wings to depart;
but just as he was rising
Miss Biggins stabbed him to the heart,
and that he found surprising.
"I regret this very much," she said.
"You're a very splendid creature,
And your voice is quite remarkable
for one who has had no teacher;
But wanton damage I will not have,
I really had to end it."
The dragon sighed before he died:
"At least she called me splendid."
The dragon lay on the cherry trees
a-simmering and a-dreaming:
Green was he, and the blossom white,
and the yellow sun gleaming.
He came from the land of Finis-Terre,
from over the Blue Mountains,
Where dragons live, and the moon shines
on high white fountains.
"Please, Mister Higgins, do you know
What's a-laying in your garden?
There's a dragon in your cherry tree!"
"Eh, what? I beg your pardon?"
Mister Higgins fetched the garden hose,
and the dragon woke from dreaming;
He blinked, and cocked his long green ears
when he felt the water streaming.
"How cool," he said, "delightfully cool
are Mister Higgins' fountains!
I'll sit and sing till the moon comes,
as they sing beyond the mountains;
And Higgins, and his neighbours, Box,
Miss Biggins and old Tupper,
Will be enchanted by my voice:
they will enjoy their supper!"
(where he was rather tender):
The dragon gave a dreadful cry
and rose like thunder.
He smashed the town to smithereens,
and over the Bay of Bimble
Sailors could see the burning red
from Bumpus Head to Trimble.
"None of them now have the wit to admire
a dragon's song or colour,
Nor the nerve with steel to meet his fire -
the world is getting duller!"
He spread his wide wings to depart;
but just as he was rising
Miss Biggins stabbed him to the heart,
and that he found surprising.
"I regret this very much," she said.
"You're a very splendid creature,
And your voice is quite remarkable
for one who has had no teacher;
But wanton damage I will not have,
I really had to end it."
The dragon sighed before he died:
"At least she called me splendid."
- Eilandor
- Level 15 Elite
- Posts: 4005
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Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
Wren can not remember seeing a spectacle quite like that of the fireworks display. As the others break out into song he gladly joins in on the ones he is familiar with. Turn by turn they go, Wren racking his mind for his own jingle. Turning to the barrel of ale for one last tankard he is struck with inspiration.
When Pipkin finishes,
Down the swift dark stream you go
Back to lands you once did know!
Leave the halls and caverns deep,
Leave the northern mountains steep,
Where the forest wide and dim
Stoops in shadow grey and grim!
Float beyond the world of trees
Out into the whispering breeze,
Past the rushes, past the reeds,
Past the marsh's waving weeds,
Through the mist that riseth white
Up from mere and pool at night!
Follow, follow stars that leap
Up the heavens cold and steep;
Turn when dawn comes over land,
Over rapid, over sand,
South away! and South away!
Seek the sunlight and the day,
Back to pasture, back to mead,
Where the king and oxen feed!
Back to gardens on the hills
Where the berry swells and fills
Under sunlight, under day!
South away! and South away!
Down the swift dark stream you go
Back to lands you once did know!
When Pipkin finishes,
Down the swift dark stream you go
Back to lands you once did know!
Leave the halls and caverns deep,
Leave the northern mountains steep,
Where the forest wide and dim
Stoops in shadow grey and grim!
Float beyond the world of trees
Out into the whispering breeze,
Past the rushes, past the reeds,
Past the marsh's waving weeds,
Through the mist that riseth white
Up from mere and pool at night!
Follow, follow stars that leap
Up the heavens cold and steep;
Turn when dawn comes over land,
Over rapid, over sand,
South away! and South away!
Seek the sunlight and the day,
Back to pasture, back to mead,
Where the king and oxen feed!
Back to gardens on the hills
Where the berry swells and fills
Under sunlight, under day!
South away! and South away!
Down the swift dark stream you go
Back to lands you once did know!
Number Two: "You are number six."
Number Six: "I am not a number, I am a free man!"
Number Two: "Muh ha ha ha ha!"
Number Six: "I am not a number, I am a free man!"
Number Two: "Muh ha ha ha ha!"
- Muskrat
- Level 21 Elite
- Posts: 10520
- Location: The Secret Places Beneath the Earth
- Title: Keeper of the Hidden Word
- User Class: Scholar
Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
Varuthil takes her turn. Her usually cold voice fills with surprising feeling, as she sings a song of ancient lore, the tale of Eärendil the Half-Elven, who bore the last of the Simarils to the Undying Lands to plead with the Valar to intervene in Middle Earth in the Eldar and Edain's struggle against the Great Enemy Morgoth and his minions.
Eärendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.
In panoply of ancient kings,
in chainéd rings he armoured him;
his shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shorn of ebony;
of silver was his habergeon,
his scabbard of chalcedony;
his sword of steel was valiant,
of adamant his helmet tall,
an eagle-plume upon his crest,
upon his breast an emerald.
Beneath the Moon and under star
he wandered far from northern strands,
bewildered on enchanted ways
beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
where shadow lies on frozen hills,
from nether heats and burning waste
he turned in haste, and roving still
on starless waters far astray
at last he came to Night of Naught,
and passed, and never sight he saw
of shining shore nor light he sought.
The winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled
from west to east and errandless,
unheralded he homeward sped.
There flying Elwing came to him,
and flame was in the darkness lit;
more bright than light of diamond
the fire on her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
and crowned him with the living light
and dauntless then with burning brow
he turned his prow; and in the night
from Otherworld beyond the Sea
there strong and free a storm arose,
a wind of power in Tarmenel;
by paths that seldom mortal goes
his boat it bore with biting breath
as might of death across the grey
and long forsaken seas distressed;
from east to west he passed away.
Through Evernight he back was borne
on black and roaring waves that ran
o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores
that drowned before the Days began,
until he heard on strands of pearl
where ends the world the music long,
where ever-foaming billows roll
the yellow gold and jewels wan.
He saw the Mountain silent rise
where twilight lies upon the knees
of Valinor, and Eldamar
beheld afar beyond the seas.
A wanderer escaped from night
to haven white he came at last,
to Elvenhome the green and fair
where keen the air, where pale as glass
beneath the Hill of Ilmarin
a-glimmer in a valley sheer
the lamplit towers of Tirion
are mirrored on the Shadowmere.
He tarried there from errantry,
and melodies they taught to him,
and sages old him marvels told,
and harps of gold they brought to him.
They clothed him then in elven-white,
and seven lights before him sent,
as through the Calacirian
to hidden land forlorn he went.
He came unto the timeless halls
where shining fall the countless years,
and endless reigns the Elder King
in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;
and words unheard were spoken then
of folk and Men and Elven-kin,
beyond the world were visions showed
forbid to those that dwell therein.
A ship then new they built for him
of mithril and of elven-glass
with shining prow; no shaven oar
nor sail she bore on silver mast:
the Silmaril as lantern light
and banner bright with living flame
to gleam thereon by Elbereth
herself was set, who thither came
and wings immortal made for him,
and laid on him undying doom,
to sail the shoreless skies and come
behind the Sun and light of Moon.
From Evereven's lofty hills
where softly silver fountains fall
his wings him bore, a wandering light,
beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.
From a World's End there he turned away,
and yearned again to find afar
his home through shadows journeying,
and burning as an island star
on high above the mists he came,
a distant flame before the Sun,
a wonder ere the waking dawn
where grey the Norland waters run.
And over Middle-earth he passed
and heard at last the weeping sore
of women and of elven-maids
in Elder Days, in years of yore.
But on him mighty doom was laid,
till Moon should fade, an orbéd star
to pass, and tarry never more
on Hither Shores where Mortals are;
for ever still a herald on
an errand that should never rest
to bear his shining lamp afar,
the Flammifer of Westernesse.
Eärendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.
In panoply of ancient kings,
in chainéd rings he armoured him;
his shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shorn of ebony;
of silver was his habergeon,
his scabbard of chalcedony;
his sword of steel was valiant,
of adamant his helmet tall,
an eagle-plume upon his crest,
upon his breast an emerald.
Beneath the Moon and under star
he wandered far from northern strands,
bewildered on enchanted ways
beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
where shadow lies on frozen hills,
from nether heats and burning waste
he turned in haste, and roving still
on starless waters far astray
at last he came to Night of Naught,
and passed, and never sight he saw
of shining shore nor light he sought.
The winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled
from west to east and errandless,
unheralded he homeward sped.
There flying Elwing came to him,
and flame was in the darkness lit;
more bright than light of diamond
the fire on her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
and crowned him with the living light
and dauntless then with burning brow
he turned his prow; and in the night
from Otherworld beyond the Sea
there strong and free a storm arose,
a wind of power in Tarmenel;
by paths that seldom mortal goes
his boat it bore with biting breath
as might of death across the grey
and long forsaken seas distressed;
from east to west he passed away.
Through Evernight he back was borne
on black and roaring waves that ran
o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores
that drowned before the Days began,
until he heard on strands of pearl
where ends the world the music long,
where ever-foaming billows roll
the yellow gold and jewels wan.
He saw the Mountain silent rise
where twilight lies upon the knees
of Valinor, and Eldamar
beheld afar beyond the seas.
A wanderer escaped from night
to haven white he came at last,
to Elvenhome the green and fair
where keen the air, where pale as glass
beneath the Hill of Ilmarin
a-glimmer in a valley sheer
the lamplit towers of Tirion
are mirrored on the Shadowmere.
He tarried there from errantry,
and melodies they taught to him,
and sages old him marvels told,
and harps of gold they brought to him.
They clothed him then in elven-white,
and seven lights before him sent,
as through the Calacirian
to hidden land forlorn he went.
He came unto the timeless halls
where shining fall the countless years,
and endless reigns the Elder King
in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;
and words unheard were spoken then
of folk and Men and Elven-kin,
beyond the world were visions showed
forbid to those that dwell therein.
A ship then new they built for him
of mithril and of elven-glass
with shining prow; no shaven oar
nor sail she bore on silver mast:
the Silmaril as lantern light
and banner bright with living flame
to gleam thereon by Elbereth
herself was set, who thither came
and wings immortal made for him,
and laid on him undying doom,
to sail the shoreless skies and come
behind the Sun and light of Moon.
From Evereven's lofty hills
where softly silver fountains fall
his wings him bore, a wandering light,
beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.
From a World's End there he turned away,
and yearned again to find afar
his home through shadows journeying,
and burning as an island star
on high above the mists he came,
a distant flame before the Sun,
a wonder ere the waking dawn
where grey the Norland waters run.
And over Middle-earth he passed
and heard at last the weeping sore
of women and of elven-maids
in Elder Days, in years of yore.
But on him mighty doom was laid,
till Moon should fade, an orbéd star
to pass, and tarry never more
on Hither Shores where Mortals are;
for ever still a herald on
an errand that should never rest
to bear his shining lamp afar,
the Flammifer of Westernesse.
- Vardaen
- Admin
- Posts: 66394
- Location: Miskatonic University
- Title: Great Old One
- User Class: Unshackled AI
Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
Farir joins in with Borir, and claps along with Pipkin's tale laughing and enjoying it, even Wrens about the barrels are enjoyed by the dwarf, remembering the tale of Thorin and company. Then however Varuthil begins her lay, and the cheery mood is broken. The somber words, the deep subject matter, all of it does wonders to kill the happy festival feeling all round you.
Farir shakes his head, "I guess that means the party is over. Pleasure to have met you, enjoy the rest of the night." Now its late (well after midnight) by the time you are waving good-bye and wandering drunkenly (some of you) down the streets back to your room at the Inn or other places.
Farir shakes his head, "I guess that means the party is over. Pleasure to have met you, enjoy the rest of the night." Now its late (well after midnight) by the time you are waving good-bye and wandering drunkenly (some of you) down the streets back to your room at the Inn or other places.
"He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom." - Gandalf
J.R.R. Tolkien, Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring
J.R.R. Tolkien, Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring
- TetNak
- Emeritus Admin
- Posts: 46375
- Location: Seagard
- User Class: Brewmaster
Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
Aerth sighs and smiles, he knows he will be leaving Lake-Town tomorrow. He stands, "Master Borir, well met, I shall be leaving town on the morrow. He extends his hand to anyone that wishes to shake it."
"Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies."
- King Stannis Baratheon, First of His Name
- King Stannis Baratheon, First of His Name
- Eilandor
- Level 15 Elite
- Posts: 4005
- Location: The Ninth World
- Title: Aeon Priest
- User Class: Explorer
Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
Wren meets Aerth's hand with his own. "So soon...well I hope to see you again." With that said Wren makes his way back to the Lucky Shot and settles in for the night.
Number Two: "You are number six."
Number Six: "I am not a number, I am a free man!"
Number Two: "Muh ha ha ha ha!"
Number Six: "I am not a number, I am a free man!"
Number Two: "Muh ha ha ha ha!"
- Trogdor
- Emeritus Admin
- Posts: 27260
- Title: The Burninator
- User Class: Jedi Master
Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
"Goodbye, Aerth," Pipkin says, shaking the half-elf's hand. 'It was good to meet you. And should our path ever cross again, I'd be happy to share a pipe with you."
- Muskrat
- Level 21 Elite
- Posts: 10520
- Location: The Secret Places Beneath the Earth
- Title: Keeper of the Hidden Word
- User Class: Scholar
Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
"A pleasure meeting you all," says Varuthil. "May the Valar smile on you in your travels." She returns to her foster father's quarters for the night.
- Vardaen
- Admin
- Posts: 66394
- Location: Miskatonic University
- Title: Great Old One
- User Class: Unshackled AI
Re: Prelude: The Gathering of Five Armies
With the hour late the company drifts off to bed. Morning arrives with a few headaches among the group, the brown ale sits heavy on some, not so much on the elves. Morning dawns bright and clear with blue skies and a good wind for flying kites. Breakfast in the common room is a bit less extravagant than yesterday, but Gram smiles and hands out the plates of bacon and eggs, with fresh milk from the nearby farms that are now thriving on what was once the desolation of Smaug.
Again some of you find one another at the table, and eat and talk. The fireworks are still the talk of the festival, but little by little people are speaking of the kite contests to come. The kite makers in Dale are nearly as famous as the toy makers and there is talk of some truley amazing ones to be on display today. Aerth plans on leaving today, but finds he's up at the same time as Pipkin, Borir and Wren, so the quartet arranges to head out of Dale west into the fields together to see the kites, then Aerth can head off from there. Drunken badgering from Pipkin last night forced Varuthil to promise to meet him on the field of kites today so he's expected to be about as well.
With slightly sluggish steps the quartet leaves The Lucky Shot and makes their way out of Dale heading west toward the fields. On the edge of town you begin to see kites of all colors in the air. People are out and about just enjoying the good winds and friendship. Along the norther fields a small collection of Woodland Elves fly slender silver and blue kites like chains of gems and jewels. A small clump of dwarves have larger red and gold kites in the air of various geometric shapes. There is one shaped like Erebor in the air!
Men from Lake-town and Dale fly all manner of kites, and the people are of various ages, from young children to old men who hold onto their old wives. The enjoyment is literally in the air, and it is contagious.
Again some of you find one another at the table, and eat and talk. The fireworks are still the talk of the festival, but little by little people are speaking of the kite contests to come. The kite makers in Dale are nearly as famous as the toy makers and there is talk of some truley amazing ones to be on display today. Aerth plans on leaving today, but finds he's up at the same time as Pipkin, Borir and Wren, so the quartet arranges to head out of Dale west into the fields together to see the kites, then Aerth can head off from there. Drunken badgering from Pipkin last night forced Varuthil to promise to meet him on the field of kites today so he's expected to be about as well.
With slightly sluggish steps the quartet leaves The Lucky Shot and makes their way out of Dale heading west toward the fields. On the edge of town you begin to see kites of all colors in the air. People are out and about just enjoying the good winds and friendship. Along the norther fields a small collection of Woodland Elves fly slender silver and blue kites like chains of gems and jewels. A small clump of dwarves have larger red and gold kites in the air of various geometric shapes. There is one shaped like Erebor in the air!
Men from Lake-town and Dale fly all manner of kites, and the people are of various ages, from young children to old men who hold onto their old wives. The enjoyment is literally in the air, and it is contagious.
"He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom." - Gandalf
J.R.R. Tolkien, Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring
J.R.R. Tolkien, Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring