linaewen | Happy Birthday Wade

In honor of the birthday of a special friend

wadearturo, I'm bringing out a poem I wrote awhile back about a special dwarf who holds a special place in her heart.

GIMLI, SON OF GLOIN

"Dwarves are a race apart."

So spoke a master of lore,
Knowledgeable in the histories of Middle-Earth.
Yet one dwarf there was
Who put away secrecy and desire for worldly gain,
Who put away memory of long-past injury,
Though not without struggle.

One dwarf there was
Who pledged his axe
For the defense of the small.
Though less in stature
Than many a tall warrior,
No less his bravery or his daring;
No less his loyalty or his determination.

His attack was bold
And unflinchingly accurate
When he laid axe to Ring;
He knew nothing of temptation,
And cared not for the danger.

His pledge was whole-hearted,
And willingly given,
When he promised his axe
For the protection of the quest,
And the guarding of the Fellowship.

His sorrow knew no bounds,
His anger unwillingly laid aside
When friend and guide was lost;
He would have given his life to avenge him
Had not his fellow warrior held him back.

His heart was great,
And willingly given
When the time came;
His pride was strong,
But willingly put aside
When he gazed into the heart of an enemy,
And saw a friend.

Dwarves, a race apart;
Yet one dwarf there was
Who pledged his life
For the defense of his friends.
Though less in stature
Than many a tall warrior,
No less his bravery or his daring;
No less his loyalty or his determination.

And a couple of appropriate pictures:

Lord of the Glittering Caves

Counter of Foes

The empty, rocky folds of Dimrill Dale lay bright about the Company as they stumbled out and away from the dark archway of the Gates under the mountain's shadow. Grief at their loss overcame them; some wept, cast upon the ground, while others stood silent, or walked aimlessly. Boromir's throat was tight and tears pricked in his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and held them back; he did not like to be seen weeping. He gripped Gimli tightly; in his grief and anger, the Dwarf was determined to return to the Mines to wreak vengeance upon the enemy.

"Gimli!" Boromir cried, raising his voice to be heard above the Dwarf's cursing. "Gimli, listen to me! It will do no good, not now! Do not throw your life away on such a fruitless pursuit! It will not bring him back!"

"No," growled Gimli. He relented suddenly, leaning back into Boromir's embrace with a sigh. "No, but it would make me feel better!"

He sat suddenly, and put his head in his hands. Boromir laid his hand on Gimli's shoulder, and the two warriors stood thus for a moment; their loss was too keen and their hearts too angry for tears.