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riveranduinrun, past Elendil and Isildur's, from swerve
of Amon Hen shore to bend of Nen Hithoel, brings us
by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Hobbit
Central and Environs.
Sir Aragorn, Arwens violer d'amores, fr'over the timesea,
had passencore rearrived from the North Kindom on this
side the scraggy borders of Fangorn Forest to wielderfight
his penisolate war against SarSaurumon:
nor had Emyn Muil's rocks by the marshes Dead exaggerated
themselse Shire's hobbitses while they wnt halfling
their rations all the time:
nor avoice from a fireyeye bellowed mine mine to tsktsk
thouartpreshus: not yet, though venisoon after rabbitkill
in Ithilien, had a kidscad Meriadoc buttended a black
old wraithking: not yet, though all's fair in vanessy,
were Samwise Gamgee wroth with twone SlinkerandStinker.
Rot a pile of Wormtongue's poison had Sandyman and son
brewed by darknight and nary end to the raginbrouhaha
was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface of galadriel's
mirror
___________________________
(barely altered from original, because it seems so apt)
Lament of Arwen Llosttoelvenkind Princess
I thought you were all glittering with the noblest of
carriage. You're only mortalkin. I thought you the great
in all things, in guilt and in glory. You're but a puny
dead. ElvenHome!
My people were not their sort out beyond there so far
as I can see. For all the bold and bad and bleak they
are blamed, the sea-elves. No! Nor for all our wild
dances in all their wild din. I can seen meself among
them, arwen luthien poorundomiel.
And the clash of our cries till we spring to be free.
Arwen, they says, never heed of your name! But I'm loothing
them that's here and all I lothe. Loonely in me loneness.
for all their faults. I am passing out. O bitter ending!
I'll slip away before they're up. They'll never see.
Nor know. Nor miss me. And it's old and old it's sad
and old it's sad and weary I go back to you, my cold
father...
So. Avelaval. My mallorn leaves have drifted from me.
All. But one clings still. I'll bear it on me. To remind
me of. Lif! So soft this morning ours, so dark this
eve ours. Yes.
If I seen him bearing down on me now under whitespread
wings like he's come from the the White Ships, I sink
I'd die down over his feet, humbly dubly, only to washup.
Yes, tid. There's where. First. We pass through grass
behush the bush to.
Whish! A gull. Gulls. Far calls. Coming, far! End here.
Us then. Aragorn, again! Take. Bussoftlhee mememormee!
Till thousendsthee. Lps. The keys to. Given! A way a
lone a last a loed a long the