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The Minstrel Contest

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Walküre:
Lone I am in my advancing amidst those ways of green,
All rest, it seems,
All worry and in apprehension tomorrow await,
All appears quiet under the branches of Lórien, realm broad and vast,
Our shires ten long centuries from evil have been preserved,
Truth is near and next, soon to unfold and unveil what veiled still persists,
I may behold, subjects whom I dearly love,
I hearken to sounds of somber kind and horrible, aye, of thorns and spears, and blades and fell iron by wicked hands governed,
Of hordes and hell, thrown at us and with much contempt led,
Shadow is to pave its way unto these lands, inexorable the fate and fortune I had often foreseen, so that defenders may have the chance and towards them luck benevolent might be.

Foes are coming, beloved ways which ever-merry trodden I have,
Creatures that breathe, peril you face and much risk, at the eastern ends watered by the antique river,
Thither the ghoulish mass shall try to pass and breach, bending what grows strong and anything of flesh slaying, for the gruesome chasm of theirs they need nourish,
Chasm that breaks, devours and chews,
Chasm that speaks, foul decrees proclaims and to bandy words is used,
Gentle beasts, dwelling in safety is for you goal prime and foremost,
I beg, may the counsel be in mind borne,
Pure souls and their kin to the western limits hither should move,
Solace and peace there may be found, joy for the wanderer who long sound shelter has sought for,
But the East at the red fury of battle will gaze, and that malicious assailants will know utter defeat I pray.

Dark Lord, the Lady is not for turning and her principles to forswear,
I passed and the Grinding Ice withstood, which are deadly wastes and for any living they are dreadful prisons of cold and chill, and many of the blessed kind of the ancient Houses have fallen, alas, for none but the Angels who rule yonder that lifeless vastness unspoiled could journey through,
I was with Melian the Wise, Queen of ancient woods, now sunk in the sea, and fair and wise she was, beyond mortal comprehension, because no Elf-maiden she is, yet one of the People who the Powers of Arda worship and serve,
The somber tales of the Second Age I have outlived, going past your snares, deception and tricks, along with the Rings of Power, harbinger of ominous deeds, and many woes to whom their secrets does not understand.

The way is shut and so it is to remain,
Servant of Morgoth, for your reign of terror the bell shall soon toll, while the yoke of tyranny for the sake of liberty undone will be,
Wait, there is else which my eyes have seen, for one the golden domain has entered, uncanny his fashion and nebulous the thoughts, my thinking to him I shall send, which is profound voice that none hear may,
Stranger, lone voyager who hither hath come, which business dost thou have in my domain? Thy arrival I saw and beheld, and visions of thy doing in my mind dwell, for these are the woods I render ever-sunny and thee I perceive.

Isaac632:
By the Ainur and the Valar, is it really she?
The Queen of the Elves has now found me.
That, or I have been much too greedy,
With what debauchery I have made of myself.
These voices are foreign to me, and are not my own;
But they're the words and accent of one of the Elven Throne.

There's no point in hiding now, I realize;
I've heard the stories of Galadriel's marvelous eyes.
She can see the future, the past, and everything in between,
And she invokes courage or madness in others who've witnessed what she's seen.
I cannot seem to get out of this vat of blood-red sauce,
My mind is afloat in a sea of drunken dreams,
My thoughts swaying as a mast in the storms of sin;
I can't change back! I can't change back!
If I could just regain my human form,
But I can't even remember the magic words.

Easy does it, one paw at a time. Crawling out of the vat. So heavy.
Now in plain view in this ransacked place—what a mess!
Who couldn't figure me out now? But I digress.

My Lady, I try to speak, but wavering yowling is all I can say,
And deep growls and whimpering,
Like the ramblings of a madman.
But it should be more than clear to thee,
Who is me?
A drunken glutton has no place in your realm, I fear,
And so I never imagined you of all elves could find me here;
Feasting and glutting on tainted goods that by feral paws are stolen,
Until I can barely move, so sick and swollen.
Ah, but it was such a delight to me,
Everything here was well ripened,
Seasoned with the passage of time,
And the heat of the open flame!
I could hardly help myself before such a boon as this,
It has all been so rich, and I couldn't resist.

So now, I lie before you at your mercy, My Lady;
For penance and repentance, I may as well be ready.
I could tell you my name, but I fear you already know,
How your magic wine has tempted me, and made my thoughts slow.
A fox I am, but also once was I at your service,
Along with The Five, who would come here to visit you,
Ancient ghosts clothed in ancient flesh, endowed with ancient knowledge.
Do you remember me?
Perhaps not clearly, as distance I was from them and you,
and exiled from their order through and through.
So now I merely wander for the seeking of pleasure,
If only I had the human tongue to speak to you of my most recent venture.

Such pain and soreness throughout my body.
My red coat is ruined, stained and soggy.
This infernal evil in my lonely heart languishes,
And my hope and sense of right and wrong vanquishes.
If I were alone still, who knew how much I would have done,
Drinking until I drown in drunkenness, pillaging every last crumb just for fun.
The ache of my head and belly are beyond measure,
Oh, the sacrifices a lost soul makes in the pursuit of pleasure.
But you, Witch-Queen, have foreseen me, and now here I am.
A swollen fox laying before you in the filth of my damning sins,
While in a stupor of no return.
Fit to burst, for better or worse.

Walküre:
Offender or spy he is not, certain I am of it, and ill an encounter would not bode, if I am to greet the traveller who so far has come, hither in the lands of Lórien that malaise do not know or see,
I need answers and responses, his mind being a maze intricate and thick, so that to watch closer I am compelled, by necessity and genuine curiosity,
Far the route of his wandering must have been and further he may have pushed his limits,
Stranger, I think I would fain do speaking words of wit and wisdom with you, to share and dig into the meanders of depth you are trying to keep hidden, for seclusion you have embraced with arms open and well wide, as life of yours sad and somber.

You have indeed much trouble undergone, I may infer in certainty and stoutly I often rest with first impressions of guests that I welcome inside,
Storms torment and haunt your dreams, thoughts and visions, for very little can one do to erase a past that pain causes and spreads, and even if joy does live and exist, all is mingled together and the most diverse tone of hues is to be in the end the result, as memories are guided by never-ceasing opposing winds, being the former a hurricane of passion, toil, regret and profound grief, while the latter the fashion of calm breezes assumes, gentle and kind, of jubilant memoirs and love that had been,
Immune to the burdens of time the guest does not seem,
Immune to the thread of fate neither, in the same measure and terms in which we are all bound to destiny, order and to the air of the world that loose roams.

Lone voyager of old, naught thou hast to wail or weep for,
Art thou not safe and well, now that the borders of the wood entered thou hast?
Wait, do not flee, no anger I bear,
Hunger was great for thee and food any being breathing needeth,
If here, among the rich banquets of these shires, relief thou hast found, content we need be of this,
In addition, I would entrust these words to thee, which none shall hear, I may assure,
Let us head to the outskirts of the Tree-capital, for we have to parlay in peace and quiet context,
Words I have to tell, yet not via means unknown to the ear,
To my very voice thou shalt hearken,
And into my eyes thou shalt gaze, which are the mirror of the many long years of this world that hitherto have passed.

Isaac632:
Carry me, My Lady.
I know that you are friend,
My mind is hazy,
So on your balance I must depend.
These times are crazy.

Your pearly grasp comforts me,
As you hold me close through this Great Tree;
Faintly can I see,
Your adoring eyes cast upon wretched me.

Hiccups and cramps!
The Lady carries the Tramp,
The world around me spins and warps,
As I have greedily eaten, and of the imported Mirkwood brew, did I drink deeply.
So deeply.
… It felt so good... deeper and deeper...
And deeper down, did I fall into sleep,
Until you came.
Ah, come tomorrow morning amid grave illness,
I should feel my due shame.

Answers to reveal, have I,
Because in lieu of the strength of secrecy, I now harbor a mind like an open book,
Eager to read my mind you most certainly are,
And what need I fear now, that I tried to hide from you to begin with?
I mean here you are, in the presence of I, Festus, the Red,
When I am at my weakest, having freshly succumbed to temptation,
And yet in your unyielding, unconditional love and mercy,
You cast me out not, but instead carry me.

I can hear the whispers of my memories drifting and swaying in the dizzying heights of my head,
Of Elrond's magicians exposing my dual nature, when my powers over fire were made clear.
And the haunting shriek of a wicked ghost, I desperately seek to bury,
An unholy ruler of the Black Lands,
He has taken a liking to me—an uncanny interest in my being.
Ever since I came to face him, when I fought the orc,
His piercing wail will not be silent.
Whisperings of a rich and ancient language languishes no matter which land I travel by,
My Lady, I would beg you to take me back to your pantry for even more food and wine,
If I only had my human lips to speak with,
Or if I had any more room in my stomach to receive.

The desire to run amok, as a wild fox does,
Has brought me suffering and pain, but yet pleasure despite all of my hardships.
It encourages me, this profane voice,
Intensifying my addiction to mead and spirits of every kind.
And in his realm, he encouraged me also,
Wishing to see the full extent of my powers,
Wanting to see for himself, how many people I could burn.
Our clash at the top of the tower was a losing battle,
He was toying with me! Merely wishing to see what I could do.
And feigned his death, to taunt me, before fleeing the scene of battle.
His war cry was the echoing screams of thousands dead,
Of fallen generations whose souls he devoured,
Like ripe fruit from a tree.

I can feel him still... Oh, do I seek the sweet release of his words.
He has made me ever thirstier, ever hungrier than ever have I been before.
Inordinate my desire, to consume more than I require,
Devouring and ingesting, like a bottomless pit leading into an empty void.
A voracious appetite driven by the madness, brought by my hopeless battle,
Against the good and evil parts of my dual nature.

Ever do I desire to drift, deeper into my dizzying sleep,
To drink deeply and feel my strength wean.
To sink deeper, and deeper, and deeper down,
Into a drunken trance.
But Mother of Elves, you came and rescued me from what could have been my own destruction,
Speak to me now, while I am yet awake,
Before my mind fades out completely because of my sinful indulgence,
Make your purposes known to me, just as I have made mine known to thee.
For much love do I have for you, and much trust indeed,
A swollen fox for your arms to hold,
In the Realm of Gold.

Walküre:
The guest is an amicable one and of comfort he is in dire need,
It is perhaps better to soften the tone and speak kinder words,
The old tongue I was much used to in my time in Kôr and Valimar the Majestic,
I shall thus opt for the parlance of modern days, which is common to every ear and mind in this grey world,
The traveller will surely appreciate the spirit of debate, which ought to be formal, and warm and in the manner of courtesy,
His soul wails, I hear something hidden and concealed,
I must ease toil and the suffering one shelter,
Where? Whither should the outcast head? If not within the shires of the Lady of Lórien, in which naught wicked or somber may stay, I assure, and stormy waves by confidence and love shall be placated, for either radiant sun or quiet moon here reign and dominate.

Hearken to me and my voice follow,
We are now to journey through the dwellings of my kind,
Which are evidences of grandness and ever-vivid sign,
Along the houses of Wood-elves, if lead you I may,
You have come in uncanny fashion today,
And at the hour unfortunate and grave,
Vigilance you must pardon, and much secrecy all over the place,
But we have to secure this joyful wood of gold,
Tenure and regency of the forest I have, that time does not mould,
Nay, the invader shall not pass, and who on the other shore eerie ruins and spoils decided to infest, never my ladyship will he contest!

Gentle pilgrim of other lands, I beg you not to despair,
In no way am I belligerent or cruel, yet a vicious intelligence wages war from his lair,
Wraiths, ghosts and ghouls he commands, and those who trusted him he made fool,
Thus, grand preparations for battle were in my plans and I do not intend to give up my own rule,
Home rule and centuries of peace, although the outer world is in pain and aches,
The bell is to toll for the Evil, at last, and its sound sleeping consciences shall wake,
All are to be summoned and have their passion rekindled,
In an era of shadows in which agony with joy often mingled,
Last sanctuaries of light still remain, when war-lords and kings their might in the battlefield will throw, but even in these rare shrines one must earn the luxury of serenity,
Via the means of clash and strife, of course, as for liberty we fight and withstand the brunt of battle to retain humanity.

You come in moments of suspense and apprehensive mood, guest,
May you feel darkness approaching, while still and loyal we rest?
May you see blades and bows of which mastery we boast?
May you find sound consolation within the ramparts of my kingdom of merriment, revered and worshipped the most?
May you fathom the secret I keep, voyager, which is the source of my enchanted shield?
It is safety, life and nourishment for this ever-lit field,
Time naught corrodes here, in akin fashion of what to mortals beyond the sundering seas is forbidden,
To defend the decent and pious I was in fact bidden,
But you, in this broad and ultimate conflict that the chapter is to close, have entered my borders in trust and the clothes of a fox you have worn,
What is it that you are seeking for? Which is your role in the tale? Why was the bitterness of prison and mournful gaol on you inflicted? Curiosity has stirred in me and the longing to know in my heart was born.

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