"Nor Bid the Stars Farewell" by jan-u-wine, illustrated with paintings.
In this piece, jan-u-wine examines Frodo's feelings as he prepares to leave Bag End, remembering the Shire and the people he loves, wondering how much Sam guesses and how much his leaving will hurt them both. This Frodo truly is "Iorhael", old-wise, with a maturity and wisdom shaped and honed by deep love and deep hurt. I think it's brilliantly done, and I hope the paintings suit.
As with the previous poem, this was written to movie-verse; Elanor is a small child rather than a baby.
Nor Bid the Stars Farewell
~ by jan-u-wine
Not for the first time (but for the last) I find myself saying farewell to familiar places.
another journey from which I do not expect to return.
the days spill like page'd parchment upon the floor.
bittersweet, this farewell, this division of my heart.
the soft, silvered dust of the road is sweet beneath my feet,
leaves burnished crimson torch a blue-drowsed sky.
impossible that I should catch the clear, cold scent of the Sea secreted within the smell of bright winter roses.
Gold light folds its gentle hand upon my desk, fingers the books lying silent there.
My hand touches faded Red, closes the scarred cover at last.
In my mind, I see Bilbo's fond smile as I lay the pen, finally quiet, atop its worn face.
He will be pleased, I know.
I hear Sam half-singing in the watered Sun beyond the window.
It is a song he often sings of late:
the Song of the Western lands.
We will not say the day is done, Samwise.
Not when there is so much yet
I look about the small, imperfect perfection that defines our world.
The world we saved together, Samwise.
How I love the sunlight, Sam…..
How I love the Shire.
Perhaps I shall see it again in the blues and greens of grey-misted Valinor,
perhaps I shall feel it in the radiance, flowing like the steady Anduin, from the Lady's Lamp.
It has grown quiet in the garden beyond the window.
Feet measure the path between door and study, eyes that I could never lie to question mine.
When I think on this last day, I will remember the seed-cake Rosie made,
and how we four sat beneath the Tree, laughing, and pulling warm, honey-slicked bits into our mouths.
Little Elle ran almost as fast as the wind that flew the gold of her hair like a far-flung kite.
Dear Rosie poured both tea and tales into the silences that hid beneath our smiles.
And you, Sam……………
How carefully you held every word I spoke, turning them about in your mind, weighing them, like a coin you did not trust the metal of.
I wonder if I have managed to mis-direct you, with my talk of venturing once more upon the Road.
Worried hurt lies in the lines about your eyes, in the frown between your brow.
What should I do, Samwise?
You would not let me go; not if you knew.
And I must go.
Alone, this time, Sam.
I meet the uncertain certainty of your eyes.
I try to tell you without words that I will not go where you cannot follow.
But not yet,
not yet, my friend.
The only heart that truly knows sorrow at this farewell is mine….
yours would not be darkened, if mine were whole.
When our places are reversed, Sam, when each day becomes for you a pained shadow of every one that went before, then the Sea will call you.
Then it will be I who waits with sun-light and laughter, I whose hand will welcome you Home.
Help me one last time, Sam:
Pretend for me that you do not know.
"The Cornfield" - study ~ John Constable "The Gardener at Giverny" ~ Claude Monet "Gull" ~ Justin Cherry
Previous entry:The Lady Elanor by jan-u-wine, plus three paintings, 3-2-10.