Post by Admin on Jan 2, 2021 21:18:18 GMT
Author: Mr. Bossatronian
This is before the dead tree is uprooted in Gondor and the sapling set there.
A blue sky. A pale blue sky. I always loved the sky, the way it changes, shimmers, glows, like a painter who can never put down his brush.
Alas, this will be my last day to see it. I know.
When I finally look down, I see him. I see the king. His hair is streaked with grey, yet his eyes show the youth of a warrior.
Strider, his name once was, I heard a Halfling called him by that name. A Hobbit named Pippin, a merry fellow.
I have not seen him in some time. I will never see him again.
The King places an open hand on my trunk. The wind blows through my leafless branches.
"Ah, my friend, it is your time." He sighs, his knowledge of the world allowing him to feel the life inside me.
In a whisper only the elves know I say to him.
"But time I have had. I have seen the sweet and the bitter. I am ready to die."
He smiles sadly, as behind him comes the Queen of Gondor. Arwen Undomiel, who has seen the Third Age in its beauty, and has seen it fade, has seen the Fourth come to pass. The daughter of the starlight. I feel her age, I feel her wisdom, I feel her beauty.
The beauty of Gondor in the Second Age. When the sun always rose, and the rain only came when needed, and the sky was beautiful, and the stars shone upon my leaves.
Then the accursed start of the Third Age, when the clouds polluted the sky, and almost nothing grew, and Gondor failed.
The wind is gentle, like a sigh as I say.
"Come back in the dusk. I will have passed on to the next life by then."
Arwen smiles at me, though tears are in her eyes, and they walk away.
I spend the rest of the day alone, a thousand memories in each breath, until the first star shines in the sky. It is the Evenstar; it is the first to rise in the night, and the last to set in the dawn.
The sky purple and crimson, as the twilight comes, peace in the gloaming.
I feel myself die. I have felt myself withering for an age, saw my flower shrivel, my leaves drop away, even Gondor crumbled around me. Now the city has been reborn, a King has come again. But my fate lies elsewhere, a tree cannot be rebuild like a city. My life is over, dying is not painful though. It just happens, and my spirit rises to the sky, my last view of this world through the eyes of that old and deeply rooted tree
Aragorn and Arwen stand, my dead branches drooping over them. The Elf smiles at me and the Ranger whispers. "Farewell my friend."
The stars shine. My line has come from Valinor, and so, as the night comes to make a new dawn, I return from whence I came.
This is before the dead tree is uprooted in Gondor and the sapling set there.
A blue sky. A pale blue sky. I always loved the sky, the way it changes, shimmers, glows, like a painter who can never put down his brush.
Alas, this will be my last day to see it. I know.
When I finally look down, I see him. I see the king. His hair is streaked with grey, yet his eyes show the youth of a warrior.
Strider, his name once was, I heard a Halfling called him by that name. A Hobbit named Pippin, a merry fellow.
I have not seen him in some time. I will never see him again.
The King places an open hand on my trunk. The wind blows through my leafless branches.
"Ah, my friend, it is your time." He sighs, his knowledge of the world allowing him to feel the life inside me.
In a whisper only the elves know I say to him.
"But time I have had. I have seen the sweet and the bitter. I am ready to die."
He smiles sadly, as behind him comes the Queen of Gondor. Arwen Undomiel, who has seen the Third Age in its beauty, and has seen it fade, has seen the Fourth come to pass. The daughter of the starlight. I feel her age, I feel her wisdom, I feel her beauty.
The beauty of Gondor in the Second Age. When the sun always rose, and the rain only came when needed, and the sky was beautiful, and the stars shone upon my leaves.
Then the accursed start of the Third Age, when the clouds polluted the sky, and almost nothing grew, and Gondor failed.
The wind is gentle, like a sigh as I say.
"Come back in the dusk. I will have passed on to the next life by then."
Arwen smiles at me, though tears are in her eyes, and they walk away.
I spend the rest of the day alone, a thousand memories in each breath, until the first star shines in the sky. It is the Evenstar; it is the first to rise in the night, and the last to set in the dawn.
The sky purple and crimson, as the twilight comes, peace in the gloaming.
I feel myself die. I have felt myself withering for an age, saw my flower shrivel, my leaves drop away, even Gondor crumbled around me. Now the city has been reborn, a King has come again. But my fate lies elsewhere, a tree cannot be rebuild like a city. My life is over, dying is not painful though. It just happens, and my spirit rises to the sky, my last view of this world through the eyes of that old and deeply rooted tree
Aragorn and Arwen stand, my dead branches drooping over them. The Elf smiles at me and the Ranger whispers. "Farewell my friend."
The stars shine. My line has come from Valinor, and so, as the night comes to make a new dawn, I return from whence I came.