Isildur said no word, but went out by night and did a deed for which he was afterwards renowned. For he passed alone in disguise to Armenelos and to the courts of the King, which were now forbidden to the Faithful; and he came to the place of the Tree, which was forbidden to all by the orders of Sauron, and the Tree was watched day and night by guards in his service. At that time Nimloth was dark and bore no bloom, for it was late in the autumn, and its winter was nigh; and Isildur passed through the guards and took from the Tree a fruit that hung upon it, and turned to go. But the guard was aroused, and he was assailed, and fought his way out, receiving many wounds; and he escaped, and because he was disguised it was not discovered who had laid hands on the Tree. But Isildur came at last hardly back to Rómenna and delivered the fruit to the hands of Amandil, ere his strength failed him. Then the fruit was planted in secret, and it was blessed by Amandil; and a shoot arose from it and sprouted in the spring. But when its first leaf opened then Isildur, who had lain long and come near to death, arose and was troubled no more by his wounds.
Quotes
for by him [Túrin] was holden the hand of ruin / from Thingol’s folk, and Thû feared him – / Thû who was thronéd as thane most mighty / neath Morgoth Bauglir; whom that mighty one bade / ‘Go ravage the realm of the robber Thingol, / and mar the magic of Melian the Queen.’
Kullervo, son of Kalervo,
Drew his sword, looked at it,
Turned it over, questioning:
Would it please this iron blade-
To devour guilty flesh
And to drink the criminal blood?
–
And the sword understood him,
Understood the man’s intention
And responded in these words:
‘Why should it not please me well
To devour the guilty flesh
And to drink the criminal blood
Since I eat the flesh of innocents
And I drink the guiltless blood’’
His heart is pure and terrible, and I think no other like it exists.
The Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the Silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them: Only I hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago.
[…] dark garden, dark garden, with your olives and your wine, your medlars and mulberries and many almond trees, your steep terraces ledged high up above the sea, I am leaving you, slinking out.
I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse ‘applicability’ with ‘allegory’; but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.
Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago?
Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?
Hwær cwom symbla gesetu?
Hwær sindon seledreamas?
Eala beorht bune!
Eala byrnwiga!
Eala þeodnes þrym!
Hu seo þrag gewat,
genap under nihthelm,
swa heo no wære.
Where the giver of treasure?
Where the seats of the feast?
Where are the joys of the hall?
Alas for the bright cup!
Alas for the heroic warrior!
Alas for the splendor of the king!
How they have passed away,
Dark under night-cover,
As if they never were.”
– The Wanderer, An Anglo-Saxon poem of lamentation, which was the inspiration for Tolkien’s Lament of the Rohirrim. (via pipesandmetalandtolkien)
You aren’t very hard to corrupt and you’re an awful lot of fun to corrupt.
My name is growing all the time, and I’ve lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of things they belong to in my language, in the Old Entish as you might say. It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time saying anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to.
Glad was Eärendel to greet Tuor, and Tuor most fain of his child; but said Eärendel: “I am thirsty, father, for I have run far – nor had Hendor need to bear me.” Thereto his father said nought, having no water, and thinking of the need of all that company that he guided; but Eärendel said again: “’Twas good to see Meglin die so, for he would set arms about my mother – and I liked him not; but I would travel in no tunnels for all Melko’s wolfriders.” Then Tuor smiled and set him upon his shoulders.
… here comes midnight with a dead moon in its jaw …
Be it known that you crush heads! Be it known that you devour corpses like a dog! Be it known that your gaze is terrible! Be it known that you lift your terrible gaze! Be it known that you have flashing eyes! Be it known that you are unshakeable and unyielding! Be it known that you always stand triumphant!
Flattery savoured ever sweet in the nostrils of thst Ainu, and for all his unfathomed wisdom many a lie of those whom he despised deceived him, were thet clothed sweetly in words of praise;
The axe forgets; the tree remembers.
African proverb (via futurepharaohs)
This is a Zimbabwean proverb from the Shona tribe, meaning that a person who harms another or borrows from someone will often forget, but the person who is harmed or borrowed from will always remember.
(via sweetheartpleasestay)
