Of Finrod and Bëor by losselen  

Canto II: Of Finrod spying Men in the woods

II.

Of Finrod spying Men in the woods

The night was cool and Moon was clear,

a wind there gathered under shade,

it shivered on the silver mere

and shook upon the grassy glade.

For summer came and summer flew,

and gold was leaf on many trees

and clear were drops of evening dew

shaken by a sudden breeze

from upturned petals, curling fern;

and up above, remote and far

in the dark and northern sky did turn

Valacirca, star on star,

of all the world ensilvered most,

Varda’s sickle, jewel of jewels,

radiant within the shining host

and doubled in the forest pools.

And lo! he spied between the boles

a light beyond a yonder dale

as campfire leaping over coals

dancing under moonbeams pale.

He wondered whence did come this light

for Wood-land elves he knew who dwelt

there hewed no trees for warmth at night

and trapped and slew for meat or pelt

no bird or beast; for above all    

they loved the living wood and tree,

the auburn of the larches tall,

the rustling of the leafy sea,

pealing rain on the forest floor,

the trembling sway of willow-limb,

these the Green-elves loved and more;

therefore the fire troubled him

and Finrod feared that evil folk

were walking free in Ossiriand.

So shadow about him Finrod cloaked,

concealed within the wood and land

his movements subtle, his stalking stride,

and saying no more he headlong sped

towards the campfire. There he spied

not beasts or orc-shapes foul, instead

clad in roughspun clothes a folk

rejoicing in the firelight;

with unfamiliar words they spoke

as they sang beneath the starlit night.

So Felagund swiftly stilled his feet

beneath the tree-encircled shade

as dancers whirled, as drummers beat,

as harpers upon the lamb-strings played

a measure rough and quick, yet still

he heard within its melody

the gleeful turn and sudden thrill

of a music made in revelry.

Beneath the sky of autumn clear

the flaming sparks like flowers flew,

like Elven-folk some did appear

yet marked they were in mortal hue

and Finrod spied upon their face

a shadow he did not yet know

the vision of an eerie grace

that was spoken of so long ago.

From memories long and rumors dim,

forbidding words in Araman cold,

the stories Felagund recalled to him,

that Second-comers therein foretold.

When all that lay in slumber fast

arise to grace the waking earth

shall Men awake and come at last

to strath and glen, to fen and firth.

And mortal be their limb and hand

as mortal as the turning days;

brief their sojourn upon the land

and yet though fleeting be their stays

so all the brightly ere they’ve died

might blaze and burn as fires swift

their lives and deeds while they abide;

for such was Ilúvatar’s Gift.

And Finrod waited, held in place,

for wonder in his mind bestirred

a wonder at their living grace

their strain of music yet unheard,

a thought as yet unformed in mind;

though rough and strange their tune and tongue,

yet wonder in the strangeness finds

in novel words and music young.

Thus Finrod in their forms perceived    

the multiplicity of the world

more fair than Elvenesse conceived

within the Music still enfurled.

Long he stood beneath the shade

til turn by turn the dancers ceased

and embers cracked within the glade

over sleeping revelers after feast.

And casting aside his shady cloak

he walked within the fire’s light

between rustling birch and slumbering folk

quiet as the passing night.

And picking up an unused lyre

he slowly plucked its rough-made string

and seated beside the dying fire,

Finrod Felagund began to sing.