Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 63 |
| Poetry of the Sea |
The creative spirit finds many means of expression. |
| Had Círdan to describe himself, he would say he was a pragmatist, preferring the daily goings-on in his busy demesne, the tangible work of his hands, to flights of fancy. But his was the soul of a poet. It spoke – not with pen and paper – but in every graceful line of his ships, each melody the wind played in their rigging, each song their keels made cleaving the waves of the Sea. And in each day faithfully waiting, until – at long, long last – the last ship would bear him away from the Hither Shore towards his dream, his greatest desire. |
A/N: - “...I will dwell by the grey shores until the last ship sails.” (RotK, Appendix B, The Tale of Years, The Third Age) - “Nonetheless it is said that for love of his kin and allegiance, Círdan was the leader of those who sought longest for Elwë when he was lost and did not come to the shores to depart from Middle-earth. Thus he forfeited the fulfilment of his greatest desire: to see the Blessed Realm and find again there Olwë and his own nearest kin.” (PoMe, Part Two, XIII, Last Writings, Círdan) 28.07.11 My muse finally consented to come back after a long hiatus |