This a tale, nay a poem, written be me, Gilandros of Mithlond.
It is not completely true, but then again, it is not completely false.
It is based on my travels across Eriador, I have exagerated much for the reader. but not all.
My motivation was always true.....
To find my 'Spark of Brilliance', my 'Maiden of the Golden Wood'
My story, or at least this part of my story, begins at my orders Kin House, 'The Sanctuary'.
For it was here that I did indeed first set eyes upon 'The Maiden of the Golden Wood'
Now read on.......
The Maiden of the Golden
By Gilandros
In Falathlorn, by rivers side, I first beheld in golden light.
The fairest treasure to touch my soul, and pull my thoughts from my control.
With eyes of green and laughing smile, she cast her spell, to which I fell.
And with a wink, slipped from my veiw, without a thought I did pursue.
To Ered Luin, The Vale of Thrain, my feet did rush in hope to gain,
some news or word, of her a view; but naught was known, and naught was knew.
To the Shire I swept, and questions asked, about the maiden I was tasked,
but only tales of food and brew, these hobbits told, these hobbits knew.
So north I turned to the ruins of man, and Evendim the lake I swam,
and braved the icy wastes beyond, but still no word or tale or song.
With hope now lost, the trail now cold, I sought to rest in the Elven hold,
of Imladris where Elrond dwells and wisdom rules and fear dispells.
And there I heard in sleeping dream, a gentle voice, saw eyes of green.
'I wait for you in lands beyond, the mountain peaks revered in song'.
'Take up thy spear and bow and sheild, for on my trail all three you'll need,
if win my heart you hope to do, for all my heart I'd give to you'.
So on the morn I left the home, and passed into Eregion,
to seek the stair at Red Horn Gate, to speed my way to early date.
But cruel Caradhras spurned my call, he took my horse in mountain fall,
and cast about in chilling wrath, boulders, snow and icey laugh.
Beaten back I changed my road, looked for the doors of Durin told,
in legend past and evil tale, of fire and shadow, fear made real.
I pasted beyond the moon lite door, broken now the trees both torn,
to the endless night of Moria, were trolls and orcs and goblins swarm.
In halls and vaults of crafted stone, the folk of Durin made such a home,
to make me pause and stare a while, in wonderment with tearful eye.
For lost to them is Dwarrowdelf, and fear consumes and creeps with stealth,
about their halls in plundered thought, destroying all that Durin taught.
But hunted now I'd fast become, the nightmares of this orcish home,
had fast become aware of I, and to catch me they now thought to try.
Ambushed once! and fast repelled, for spear and sheild and will I held,
and caused such hurt by elvish wrath, the hunters flead before my path.
So cunning now with paths all known, traps they set to claim their foe,
and softly followed their pursuit, from mountain door to the mountains root.
They dogged my path, my rest they stole, to push my mind from my control,
and drive me to a road of doom, and so my life sought to consume.
But foiled were plans by paths I tread, for a guilding voice was in my head,
and stepping past in shadowed gloom, the eastern door ahead did loom.
A Guard it had, a troll of might, and black its heart as dark as night,
it held the door in watchful stance, of slipping by there was no chance.
So battle joined and rage unleased, I quickly fell upon the beast,
with spear and sheild I thrust and hewed, but armour held and still it stood.
Exhausted now and sure to fall, I cursed the troll still standing tall,
and charging it with all my might, I threw my spear to blind its sight.
As luck would have it some may say, this Troll that blocked the path to day,
was already sightless in one eye, and now would never see a sky.
As darkness took the world away, it screamed in rage to pain alay,
but stop it's foe and claim it prize, it sadly needed either eye.
So stepping past the stumbling Troll, I quietly left it full of woe,
and pasted beyond the Eastern gate, to safety and a different fate.
Crying with joy to see the sun, I rushed to the vale beyond,
and passed into the Golden wood, before a chance of foul pursuit.
And there I heard a laughing voice, with gentle tones and words of choice,
that guilded me by paths unknown, to city in the Golden home.
And to a garden were love did dwell, I meet the eye's I knew so well,
the maiden fair that held my will, her name of course Tinuvaril.
