I want to live where
Loyal little men with
big hearts & big hairy feet
live, with their dirt
smudged faces, who are
as brave as dragons.
Their perfectly carved out
cottages in the hills of
the Shire, round and
neat and Idyllic. I want
to live there, and breathe
the air there, but not as
a short big footed hobbit.
I want to be an Elf, —
tall and slender—
with the movements
of elegant precision,
like golden arrows slicing
through the air like
march winds … and loyal.
But – there is no neighbor,
no friend more loyal
than the always
ill-tempered dwarf,
whose word once given
Is more solid.
He will stand by you
till his death
if only because he promised.
And he did die for me, Kili,
and for Tauriel,
and other romantics
who thought
we were ruthless
assassins
in Middle Earth.
But in this bleak
world full of promise
and gold, with the
devastationtion of Smaug
There is one whose friendship
more loyal than all,
his goodness … blinds
in the darkness
like the sparkle of jewels —
in the noon sun
is our grey wizard.
But I must retreat to the Shire
to my little cottage
for some tea
I must return to
formation and the forest.
Even elves grow tired
when orcs lay dead
at their feet.
Reblogged this on Quiet Time For Me.