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The Minstrel Contest

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Isaac632:
Our fuel is not enough, so my captains call to me,
As I did with Fangorn,
I will rip down every tree.
And so I will in Lorien,
Harvest every fuel I see.
May your kin sit idly and scorn,
As their wood now belongs to me,
In your groves the labor will begin,
It is Saruman's decree!

You do not understand it yet,
But patient I am indeed,
Before your choice's your last regret,
Mount your stag and steed.
Unlike myself, Sauron has no heart,
And absent is his soul,
Every mortal he will rip apart,
Destruction is his goal.

And here you sit, feeling safe and content,
Unaware of the opportunity that is present.
Be very aware, My Queen,
I am the wizard, and your plans are seen.
On me, the future of the world depends,
And I must not let you and your friends,
Destroy my coveted ring;
If we lose it, we lose everything.

We lose the chance of a world that we can rebuild together,
From the ruinous ashes of the dead, will spring trees that stand forever;
And once more from hideous beasts will beauty come to life,
The White Hand will give hope and plenty after the days of strife,
And to once more bear wheat from the scythe.

Already, the clouds come for you, black and dreary,
The King of Rohan ebbs, weak and weary;
The Steward of Gondor is mad with grief,
While my servants chip every quarry.

Join not, and keep your cowardly kin withdrawn,
My Uruk-Hai march for Helm's Deep—for men, there is no dawn.
Already, I've the secret weapon to extinguish their hornburg with fire.
If it means that I will rule, with the Master Ring,
If it means I can finally reshape everything,
I will neither tarry, ever toiling, and never will I tire.

Your chances diminish, your idleness betrays you, Peace-lover!
One ill turn deserves another.
It is over.

Walküre:
Tragic the moment and cursed the fate, in which the grandest of the wizards elected folly and wisdom disowned,
Forlorn is the proposition which you unceasingly yearn, to beautify Arda and the guise of the West to make the decaying world resemble,
None may and never it might befall, that one enjoying the service of marred minions the bliss beyond the sundering seas will ever mirror,
These were the disgraceful words of whom once a fair visage would boast, and elegant composure and knowledge and robes,
He sought to mend the flaws which we bequeathed from the elder eras, mournful and sad, and to the wailing Elda a prospect of renewed might he was to offer,
Such a figure was cloaked in mystery and to ancient manners he seemed much acquainted, while admiration he started harvesting from the fields of buoyant naivety,
But the wisest of the immortal kind knew well that to him no faith was to be entrusted, for deception we have learnt through the hardest strife and a greater foe for long we had battled, being thus able to recognise the lie and in the thread of phoney illusions to avoid being chained,
The cunning adviser was nothing more than the imposter we have all heard of, and in his footsteps you dared state and proclaim, that a newer world is possible to achieve, flawless and to the command of industry subdued,
This is no merry scenario nor dream, White Wizard, as the flames of malignant arts only burn and asunder tear, along with the inexorable doom which any of your deeds is to undergo, because the fell hand mighty and splendid towers, castles and palaces could never raise, should you try to reach the mastery of the Lords who waves governed and a vast empire on the shores of the continent managed to establish,
To them belongs the Dark Tower you are much fond of, being it your residence and own domain, in which years you have spent, making enquiries on lost lore and secrets trying to uncover.

That past has gone for good, fallen Istar, foolish the mind that such a desire fuels, and the bitter savour of defeat you are to taste, but complete demise for you it is to be, because the Evil is given no second chance to redeem and what awaits you are just woes, to you and to whom your design aids.

Isaac632:
How do the mighty fall under the will of the weak,
And the powerful become powerless before the meek?
Though I toil, and fight, and clash,
The worth of my might is now soot and ash.

An ancient force of the woods,
Has torn my place to many a shred,
And now foreigners pillage my goods,
And scavenge among my minions, dead.

The hearts of men are stronger than I believed,
Even after the millions dead for whom they grieved;
I've burned and purged every hill and steppe,
But alas, I could not conquer Helm's Deep.

My dreams lie in ruins and despair,
I now stand alone in my tower,
Watching the passing of each hour,
A once mighty kingdom has vanished to thin air.

I would have a victory of my own,
If I had only ever found The Ring,
I could have defeated Sauron, and reigned as King,
And ruled a golden era of wisdom on my throne.

I vow to rise from this day of defeat,
For though each tree is split;
Until The Ring lies at my feet,
I will never quit.

Such envy I have for those who've persevered,
What power do they have that I have not?
They will continue to struggle to be revered,
While my kingdom's left in rubble and rot.

I should have done something differently,
If only I had The Ring,
If only I had that precious thing,
The world would serve me gladly.

My hopes and dreams are vanquished,
Alone, I'm in my lair,
I fear this day will languish,
As the legacy of despair.

Walküre:
Vainglorious and conceited unto the end, I may see you have learnt naught from defeat and utter demise, and you still gaze at the horizon of your lost dreams and wishes, now unattainable, forbidden and remote,
Men did not falter in front of the tough test, and the will of their fallen foe they have reduced to grave despair,
They stood up to you, gallant and proud, and the prowess of your wicked hexes they have made vanish,
Your ghoulish creations and brood shelter amidst retreat they have tried to find, yet only the wrath of roots and branches they eventually met, due to the wizard's crimes and faults against the forest's soul.

You are now caged inside your tower, Saruman, as a guarded dwelling into a gaol have been turned, and it is your gaol where naught but solitude and shame await you,
I foretell that of other troubles you might be new cause and mastermind,
May you thus these words of caution hearken,
That ultimate departure you are doomed to face, should guilty conscience not repent, and if redemption is not to be, of your precious appearance of matter and flesh you shall be deprived, and this is dreadful eventuality for any of the angelic kind, for across unknown seas and lands you are to voyage, but as powerless ghost, impious and cursed.

Isaac632:
*   *   *

Ah yes! Free at last, free at last! Free as a sailboat, and strong my mast!
My escape from the dirty dwarves,
And the gnarled goblins,
And the obscene orcs,
And the wailing wraith,
Have all made me wary,
But it has all been legendary!

How so may I now celebrate and revel,
In victories of proud and ancient level,
Through fields and wilds I fly, running,
No creature of the future will match my cunning!
The books of men will record me, Huzzah! Ha ha!
As Festus, the Red Wizard, the luckiest adventurer of Arda.

Into Lorien I go,
For I tire of desert and snow,
I need to keep my head low.
Behold! The Red Wizard transforms!
To hide in the wilds and wood,
Out of sight for good.
Now my fur will warm my toes,
And for pleasure and rest, I follow my nose.
The Fox trots through shade and shadow,
Into the beautiful lands of forest and meadow.
My ears swivel atop my head alert,
My nose wiggling for dinner and dessert.

What is this? Looks like a fortress,
But also a tree from trunk to buttress.
Familiar, yes and no.
It's like I have seen before, just not in this place though.
And of course, it's crawling with elves!
These ones all look wary.
What are they expecting that's so scary?
No matter. My opportunity arises to reward myself for my troubles,
From the mountains to the valleys to even the wastelands of Mordor,
I shall not wait a moment longer.
The temptation is so great...

… Through shadow and shade, I make my way inside,
These big tall slender pointy-eared doofuses couldn't find me, and I didn't even hide!
Did they not notice my big, beautiful, red coat,
And my bushy tail?
Maybe through day and night they've stood awake without rest,
The patrol does look somber and tired, so no wonder their ears and eyes fail.
What enemy are they awaiting?
I know not, and care not... my prize... it is waiting.

Sneaky I slink and skulk down steps and around every corner,
Silent are my paws down every corridor.
To forget my horrors upon facing The Ghostly King,
I vow to treat myself to a feast, a little bit of everything!
And zounds! What before my eyes, should appear?
There is more food and drink than I could ever imagine in here.
Uncountable barrels of wine,
On these fruits, salads, cheeses and poultry I now dine.
This is so unreal! Why do they have so much down here?
I'm sure they won't mind, and won't even notice,
What will be missing, so I need not fear.

Reckless abandon! Everything tastes so sweet,
So fresh and juicy is the chicken meat,
With bread rolls that crumble in my canine teeth,
What a glorious meal this will be.
The leg of a turkey, a bottle of wine,
And the cheese! Simply to die for.
These buffoons of elves could never catch me now,
But at least they're great at cooking some chow.

I seem to be getting quite full,
but it all tastes so good—I want more,
Never have I dined on such reserves before,
I can feel the wine warming my heart and soul.
I am staggering and stumbling, giggling in quiet bliss,
I've tried to reach that big roasted beast up there, but I leapt and I missed!
Banged my head upon a wooden cork,
I'm seeing stars, no! Birds! NO! STORKS!
Alas, I have fallen into a great red vat,
Like a big juicy orange, so round and fat,
from the delicacies I have devoured, this delightful hour.
Some spigots around me, I gnaw off with my teeth,
And now the vat fills with red juices, so fruity and sweet.
My head dizzy, my body weakens—Bathing in sweet wine!
So much to eat, so much to drink,
I'd hope this would never end, or so I might think...

… Something is wrong.
No. Wait. What was that sound?
Was it a song?
I look all around.
But I can barely see,
In trouble is me!
I must get out of this place,
before anyone sees my face.
But I'm so heavy. Heavy and drowsy.
I can see a shadow!
If I could just pick my paws up and flee,
You can't see me! Don't see me! Don't get me!
Why can't I move? I'm too round and swollen to flee.
Too drunken to flee.
My foxy disguise is all that can now save me...

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