Menelmir’s Tale

by Aug 4, 2006Poetry

Upon a rock there sat an elf
Who’s name was Menelmir,
And there he’d sit and tell his tale
To anyone who’d hear.

A man, one Thogremund by name,
was passing the old elf,
And his air of forlorn grace
Reminded him of himself.

And so Thogremund listened
As Menelmir wove his tale,
by the road outside the village
as the light began to fail.

"My tale is one," Menelmir said,
"Of misery and plight,
And a horrifying creature,
And a most galliant fight.

Many many years ago
In the town of Fae,
I built myself a boat
To sail out of the bay.

I landed on a shore which bore
The worlds strangest fruit,
And the people who lived there
Appeared to follow suit.

And there I met another elf,
And shipwrecked she had been;
On this shore her boat had crashed,
Far from her elven kin.

And in her eyes I lost myself,
And she herself in mine,
And for awhile we were merry
And everything was fine.

But then one day a kraken stole
Her for to be his wife,
And I then fought that aweful beast
Through my undieing life.

Until at last I killed the beast,
The demon of the sea,
But since i never found my love
I no rest will see."

Menelmir looked up, and
Thorgremund saw there
Was an expresion on the elven face
That was purely sad, yet fare.

For so end so many stories,
In a way that dosent fit,
Yet that does not mean
That no good can come of it.

For years later Menelmir was killed
By a molten iron blast,
And in the Halls of Mandos
The old elf found his love at last.


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