Hullo, lovely readers of Shaylynn's equally lovely blog!  I'm Victoria from Raindrops and Moonlight, where I blog when I'm not busy daydreaming or drowning in English essays.  I'm a francophile, anglophile, bookaholic, and fangirl of various fandoms, including, of course, the immortal Tolkien.    A wizard is never late, as Shaylynn reminded me, but I must not be a wizard, because I am LATE in getting this in to her.  Thanks for your patience and for having me as a guest-poster in the first place, Shaylynn!



 I first read The Lord of the Rings as an almost-nine-year old bouncing along in the back of a trailer on a trip to Italy.  One of the things I remember most about that first reading - besides the way certain chapters made me crave mushrooms - is how much I loved the poetry.  I didn't even realize the genius of it at the time; it was just the first poetry that had ever really gotten across to me.

Part of poetry is atmosphere, creating a feeling, catching the mood of an experience. Tolkien was a master of that, among other things, and to this day I can't quite figure how he did it.  He didn't sacrifice content for atmosphere.  All the poems tell a tale, especially since most of them seem to be based on the ballad form - not surprising, with an author as interested in history as Tolkien was.

The first poem  I remember clearly was The Fall of Gil-Galad. I really don't know why that one stood out, and later I  re-read all the poems in FOTR and decided that, stylistically speaking, it's one of the less beautiful and memorable pieces.  I guess what really distinguishes it is the curiosity it raises as to what really happened to Gil-Galad:   

The elven-ship in haven grey

Beneath the mountain-lee

Awaited her for many a day 

Beside the roaring sea.

From helm to sea they saw him [Amroth] leap,

As arrow from the string,

And dive into the water deep

As mew upon the wing. 

Seeee, it's so pretty.  Now go read the whole thing.  Or, check out a sung version here.  It is very pretty as well, though not the way I imagine the Lay being sung.  It's not elvish enough.

The Elves aren't the only ones with nice poetry, oh no precious.   The Hobbits have some great stuff, too, mostly written by Bilbo to old tunes.  What drives me crazy about this is that I'm nearly certain that, given Tolkien's propensity to draw inspiration from culture and history, he had a real tune in mind when he mentions that something had an old Hobbit tune.  The point is further proved by the fact that the source of one such song is obvious even to a reader who is not a literature/culture nerd.  I speak, of course, of the beloved Man in the Moon nursery-rhyme thing which Frodo so gracefully performed on top of the table at the Prancing Pony.  (Somebody really needs to make a Prancing Pony restaurant in real life.  They would serve things like meat pies and sausages and stew, and all the LOTR geeks in the world - and perhaps even normal people who  just like food - would love it.)

Anyway.  The best Hobbit-poem, in my most humble opinion, is the Walking-Song the hobbits sing on their first day of their Adventures.  "Bilbo Baggins had made the words, to a tune that was as old as the hills, and taught it to Frodo as they walked in the lanes of the Water-valley and talked about Adventure."  This is definitely a wanderlust song ("though not, of course, without any mention of supper and bed"), very fitting for travelers and a bit torturing for any stuck-at-home travelers-at-heart.  

Upon the hearth the fire is red,

Beneath the roof there is a bed;

But not yet weary are our feet, 

Still round the corner we may meet

A sudden tree or standing stone

That none have seen but we alone.

 Tree and flower and leaf and grass,

Let them pass! Let them pass!

Hill and water under sky,

Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate,

And though we pass them by today

Tomorrow we may come this way

And take the hidden paths that run

Towards the moon or to the sun.

Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,

Let them go! Let them go!

Sand and stone and pool and dell,

Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,

And there are many paths to tread

Trough shadows to the edge of night, 

Until the stars are all alight.

Then world behind and home ahead,

We'll wander back to home and bed.

Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, 

Away shall fade! Away shall fade!

Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,

And then to bed! And then to bed!

Doesn't it make you just want to go explore an autumn forest or something?  With or without a pocket-handkerchief?  

I could go on forever, pointing out every bit of rhyme in the trilogy and beyond, but then you'll be sitting here till you have a long white beard like Gandalf's.  So I encourage you, even if you've read it a hundred times, to re-read that poetry and let the awesomeness sink in.