Tag: Throwback Hour

misbehavingmaiar:

”I have known enchantment for the sea
for coasts of citrine, emerald, lazuli,
in the countless bounty millions reap,
and in terror of the deep.

For every ship may but the surface glide
each sailors’ muses mirror’d in your tide
yet life beneath writhes frenzied, brisk, and bleak
or else devouring slow, with hooks and beak.

Of these twain aspects I both admire;
Two sides of the sea’s dichotomous empire,
to them, I equally my heart bequeath:
the jewel’d surface, and the dread beneath.”

*splashes* 

@masteroftheseas

misbehavingmaiar:

Her ghost came in with the tide
And the trails of her wedding shawl
Were weeds and a wet white winding sheet
Of a bride more fair than them all.

The great grey wave scored the heavens
And pulled down a star in its curl;
The lords of the land ought tremble
When the sea gives up its pearl. 

The water wed many such wives;
Great queens who when sunken, bore wings;
Judgment lies in the bright silver knives
Of their eyes fixed accusing at kings. 

The highest of hands drowned the mighty
When Man sought out what was banned;
But the lords of the land ought tremble 
When she walks on the quicksilver strand. 

misbehavingmaiar:

Eleven strong and valiant true the sons of Eru road through the dew

With sneaking guile they thought to pass the clever eyes of Thû. 

Brave Finrod Nóm, he sang a song, to save the friendly few-

but the darkness scowled, and stinking growled 

and something in the bone-lair howled

and one by one the elves it drew

away into the dark to chew. 
 

One by one into the dark it drew away and slew–

Eleven strong before erelong became a humble two.

misbehavingmaiar:

There shall be an age of fire and an age of steel;

The tired sun run down by night;

An age of marring, and an age of wolves

Ere I rise again in might. 

misbehavingmaiar:

You who fish at Irmo’s deep well
To net your fancies where visions dwell; 
Do strive a while with me whose long
existence found its source in Song!  

Oh kings and smiths, who drank so deep
undeserv’d, of lore from Aulë’s keep;
Though your hammers skilled may be-
I’ve yet to see you surpass me! 

Dare a mortal match his art with mine?
Your craft is learned, and Thu’s divine!

misbehavingmaiar:

helcaraxe:

how does morgoth moan

Like an ageless tree consumed by fire, 

its secrets-store of centuries in rings

hissing, bursting, in sap and steam.

A whisper in an upturned shell;

Like a glacier slowly crushing,

Like the grinding of a stone

like a faceless lover in a dream–

“you are not alone” , when indeed,

you are alone. 

This is how a god groans.