In the Greenwood’s southern reaches
Stands a grove of golden beeches.
The Enchanted River’s waters
Flow beside these woodland daughters.
Violet twilight there entrances;
Wind unfurls the golden branches.
Elves sing underneath the eaves
Of Varda’s stars and Arda’s leaves.
Oft a minstrel came, a Silvan,
Singing to the trees an Elven
Ann-thennath of stars above.
A Star heard, and fell, in love,
To Middle-earth. “Night is falling!
– Can you feel my feä calling?
Do you feel the fiery yearning?
Do you see my star heart burning?”
Now the lonely beeches linger,
Pining for their Silvan singer.
Elves and Stars are of a kind,
Born to twilight, born to shine.
Elf and Star are now, forever,
High above the trees, together.
Elven-Star now shine as one,
East of the Moon, West of the Sun.
– Chathol-linn 4/03
NOTE: Fadesintothewest is the author of a story, the sketch from which inspried this poem. The story, “Creation Song of Ilúvatar” is at https://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1285390&chapter=6. Rating G. As always, I am borrowing the world of JRRT, whose work I love and respect, and I promise to return it unharmed.