The slanting rays attire the leaves in gold.
The burnished branches, young against the old
Bearded tree trunks, sing of Arda’s glory
And with hushéd hymn, impart a story –
Of all the wanderers who pass this way,
None stranger have we seen than those this day
Came striding through the woods like doom’s fell knell,
Three weaponed warriors, seeking what befell
Two others of their company. Bereft
By cruel captivity, escape, death –
They do not know. But never shall they wait.
The legendary hunt shall find their fate.
Oak said, One bore the sword of Mortal kings.
Above his brow I saw a crown with wings
Hovering, hesitant to stay, or flee
Hope’s peril-laden path to destiny.
I laughed to see a stone that walks, said Elm.
With twining russet moss beneath his helm.
To me his secret name “Ax-heart,” he told.
An Elven locket chained his heart with gold.
Joy! My green heart swayed to see the Fair
Folk walk our ways, green-leaved and bright as air.
The archer answered, Wonder! with spelled speech
Like singing and glistening eyes, said Beech.
I fear the three wayfarers `neath the tree.
Their footsteps change the way the world will be.
But most I mourn the fading Elven-kin.
Their farewell song is fading on the wind.
“They Say of the Elves” by Brancher at www.henneth-annun.net, regarding their fading song on the wind. Mentioned with permission.