Three short scenes in honor of March 25. Book-verse

Disclaimer:  Professor Tolkien's wonderful characters don't belong to me; I just get to think about them day and night.

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HOLLIN

The Elf touched us and we roused, warmed by recognition and communion we had not known in many turnings of the Sun.  But it was the voice of the Dwarf, murmuring in the stone-tongue, that brought us to full awareness once again.  Who, these folk who tarry nearby, each different?  Two Men, their spirits beating to the pulse of destiny, hope, kingdoms gone and struggling and yet to be… they scramble up our slopes heedless of our regard.  The Elf returns to us now and again, hoping we have something to tell him of those who once dwelt here… but they left and have not returned.  The Dwarf stays close, drawing strength from our strength.  He is a true son of his people, and perhaps we will see him again.  The Maia… we know him.  He has passed our way before, always respectful, never tarrying.

And there are young, vibrant voices in this group, children of the northern meadows, knowing little of stone and unable to hear our voices.  They wish only respite from something that troubles them, comfort in one another’s presence, a warm place to rest in our tumbled arms.

We measure time in long, long measure, and so it is but an instant before they are gone, voices stilled, footfalls a memory.  Yet we are not as forsaken as we believed.  It was pleasing to sense more than bird and beast, wind and stars.  Perhaps change is coming, and we will rise again -- builded and proud, shelter and ornament.  Our roots go deep, but we are glad of air and sun and company.  Perhaps change is coming.

LÓRIEN

We remember the Man in different garb, his face and spirit joyous and free of care. She stood with him, barely touching us, her footfall so light, and they spoke to one another of love and hope and a future yet to be written. We scarcely recognize him now, he is so changed. His face is careworn, his garments less fine, his heart burdened. But when he lifts me from my bed, I recognize his touch, his voice, the faint essence of the Firstborn that sits lightly upon his blood.

One of the small ones comes to join him, and they both gaze at me, exchanging soft words. The small one takes me in his hand, and I sense his joy in my beauty.

Little disturbs the long, slow years, but we have sensed something uncertain in the air, in the water, in the soil. The Lady and her Lord planted us from seeds brought from lands far to the West, and we have been content to nestle within the warm soil of this dream-realm, gazing up to the bright stars and sun whose names we share: el-anor. But now, the Lady tells us that we must prepare ourselves to take root once again in new lands. She says that wherever we grow, we will be reverenced, and her blessing will never leave us. That day is not yet, she whispers; but change is coming. .

MOUNT MINDOLLUIN

I was brought to the high place by a furtive, royal hand, a voice bidding me sleep until Yavanna sing me to movement. And so I lay in the dark, quiet and still, as stars wheeled overhead and I thought myself forgotten. One day, the urge came to stir, to push out roots for nourishment and burst through the stubborn ground into air and light and rains. Slowly did I quicken, obedient to what compelled me, to she who gentled my questions.

Then the Maia came, and he brought another who had also waited with patience and hidden strength. Behold the King! When his hand touched me, gladly did I loosen my hold on the soils of the mountain to be taken by him to the White City where I first knew life. The Maia stepped back and allowed the King and two small ones to replant me in earth prepared for my needs. I heard myself called a symbol of Hope, and so I will proudly bear flower and fruit, a bridge between one Age and the next.

I am welcomed with joy and music, the voices of Eagles and the cheering of Men. Misted by sweet waters and breathing clean air, I eagerly bring forth new buds and leaves, unfurling silvered shimmers of ancient beauty. Grow and be glad, she whispers in parting; the world has changed.