Friday, June 5, 2015

The Lord of the Rings Fellowship

After a 6-month journey, Serena and her book club "fellowship" finally finished all 6 books of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Everyone dressed up in character costumes for their final meeting. Serena looked endearing as a hobbit, dressing up as Peregrin Took, a.k.a. Pippin. Her feet weren't quite hairy enough but the nice long pipe did the trick.

This time Serena was inspired to write an epic poem about Helm's Deep. Did I say it's epic? It's epic.
The Tale of Helm’s Deep

The cursed hand an army bred
To fell the Hornburg tall
The Orc-made were ten thousand strong
And swarmed upon the wall

The rumour of destruction came
Unto the Deeping Coomb
Advancing like ebbed streams of blood
And horrid pulsing blooms

As lightning flashed across the sky
The Guard’s hearts quickly failed
For with every dark sheaf revealed 
All hope seemed crushed and quailed 

Helm’s Deep seemed made of flimsy sand
A useless childish toy
Against the might of all the seas
Armed with the Devil’s ploys

Dark waters poured through the breached Dike
And rain lashed like barbed whips
Blazing spears of lightning smouldered
Deep thunder tore and ripped 

The wailing cries of young children
Mingled with screams of loss 
Reverberating off the caves
With not the briefest pause 

The blood of Men and Orc alike
Emblazoned a foul path
Carving a torrential strait thus
Rekindling both sides’ wrath

The broken blade, reforged again
Shone like a deadly star
Wielding might majestically with
True glory from afar

The stench of flesh hung thick and rank
The air was tight with fear
Tortured bodies littered the ground
And heads grinned from tall spears

“Surrendered to our awesome might
For we shall slay you all
We are the fighting Uruk-Hai
With lances sharp and tall!”

The Guards observed with grim unease 
The Uruks and wild men
Mocking the light with spears aloft
Like some wild bristling glen

Then suddenly the sapphire sky
Was washed with golden light
And unbelieving hearts were lit
As dawn revealed her might

No finer band could be looked for
Nor greater hope than this
For the tides had suddenly turned
And pure was the Guard’s bliss

The Helmed King was bold and fair
His steed was white as snow
His shield was golden as the sun
And great hope he bestowed

As their gorgeous stallions raged
The King’s Guard hewed with ease
Their blades seemed made of purest light
Their faces held no crease

Where before the green dale had lain
Now a dark forest loomed
Rank upon rank of twisted boughs
The enemy seemed doomed

Lord Erkenbrand with horn of black
His shield as red as blood
Blew blast after resounding blast
Feet planted in the mud

Then a tall rider clad in white
Mithrandir of The West
With steed surefooted as a deer
Tossing his mighty crest

Like smoke against a galing wind
The army turned and fled
Filled with a madness of pure fear
Surrounded and unled 

And thus our tale of victory 
Comes to a gladden end
With boundless happiness for all
Now supper we’ll attend!

By an unnamed minstrel,
a hobbit, and a collection
of eye witnesses

(The hobbit only did the last verse)

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