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Dreamflower's Dribs and Drabs  by Dreamflower

Theme: "Out on a limb"
Elements: A type of tree: rowan
Author's Notes:
The information found here was invaluable to me in both inspiration and information. It's part of an online poetry anthology by The Wondering Minstrels. Several of JRRT's poems are to be found there.
Word Count: 300 ( a "tribble" or triple drabble )

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O OrofarnŽ, Lassemista, CarnimŪriŽ!
O rowan fair, upon your hair how white the blossom lay!
O rowan mine, I saw you shine upon a summer's day,
Your rind so bright, your leaves so light, your voice so cool and soft:
Upon your head how golden-red the crown you bore aloft!
O rowan dead, upon your head your hair is dry and grey;
Your crown is spilled, your voice is stilled for ever and a day.
O OrofarnŽ, Lassemista, CarnimŪriŽ!

(LotR: The Two Towers, Book III, Chapter IV, "Treebeard")
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O OrofarnŽ, Lassemista, CarnimŪriŽ!

I had heard the voice of the smaller hobbit softly singing along with me under his breath. But now he too snores softly alongside his elder kinsman. What a wonder they are to me! I have not seen a new thing since I was very young and green. So small they are, but their hearts are large. Their eyes are filled with wonder and with questions, and their tongues speed along hastily and as pleasantly as bird song. They are so trusting in us, a people altogether strange to them and so much larger. It will be an honour to aid these small people in their trouble.

I know the other Ents consider me even hastier than usual in this matter; why should we go out on a limb to help those who have never been of any help to us? But bararumambarumbara-hoom-ha-harba-hrum-loving Saruman in his cold stone tower, with his axe wielding orcs and his fires and steams, is our enemy, and I say that the enemies of my enemy are my friends. If no others will help, I will go with them myself alone. It is better to die trying than to fade away or to take root in the deep places of the forest, hiding from the truth.

Oh my home! The leaves a soft silver ceiling as grey as morning rain, the berries in autumn red as jewels. There against the mountainside, I had joy in the company of my rowans. They had come to have voices, perhaps in time they would have wakened for me. I would have been no longer alone.

I would I had tears, such as Men and Elves may shed in their pain and sorrow.

But I have only anger and song!

O OrofarnŽ, Lassemista, CarnimŪriŽ!





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