To start us off, how about reminding ourselves of what we can do? Here are all those wonderful Yule poems, all of which deserve a permanent home here.
From Riv (you didn't think you'd escape now, did you?):
A Hobbit lives in the Shire.
He's wearing his winter attire.
The season is Yule,
And he's not such a fool
To be far from the warmth of the fire.
This Hobbit makes ready for guests.
He's had a bazillion requests.
All want to be present.
In finery resplendent.
A big bunch of Shire-folk pests.
For it is reported to all,
To Hobbits, both the big and the small.
A special guest there is certain to be,
From the land to the South by the Sea.
When Elessar, the High King comes to call.
So, dream of Elves and candies this Yule,
When the air is chilly and cool.
Dream of warm fires and Kings,
And many marvelous thngs
Brought to life by the Tolkien school.
One Christmas Eve I dozed before the fire,
And as I dozed, I dreamt of festive fun:
A Christmas in the spirit of the Shire,
A time of light and joy for everyone.
I dreamt of cakes & ale, of bread & wine,
Of music, dancing, poetry and song;
Where everybody had a lovely time
And young & old alike joined in the throng.
When I awoke, upon the hearth I found
A sprig of some mysterious silver tree;
As though an elf had come without a sound
And left a Christmas gift there, just for me;
And all around me then I heard the call:
"Let there be peace on Earth! goodwill to all!"
The 25 of Yulemuth Parting
On the winter soltice, the shortest day of light did the nine depart.
From Rivendell did two Men, four Hobbits, an Elf, a Dwarf, and a Wizard set out on a quest.
Their task was to undo a great evil, a ring of power and pain to be made undone in the fires from whence it came.
To this task noble men brought knowlege of swords, the elf keen sight and arrows true, Hobbits small but stern;
these friends of the earth, the dwarf with iron resolve and steadfast will;
hard as living rock, and the wizard; wise servant of the secret fire.
Of all these skills none were greater than the love they bore.
Blessed were they of Elbereth who's grace shone upon them, yet even unto the darkest places of Middle Earth.
For pity would undo what malice had wrought.
On that longest night did hope shine within thier hearts which would guide them to what end they did not know.
All roads lead to one end and darkness passes into fair morning light.
In Ithilien, dark trees stand
sentinel over the tumbling land
In the White City, banners soar
over stone streets warmed with open doors
In Lothlorien, leaves of mallorn
Lay thickly upon the land forlorn
Far north, the Iron Mountains lie
Reaching stony heights to icy skies
And winter winds sweep night to morn,
in the Misty Mountains, ‘round old Redhorn
But here I lie, in my warm bed
Feather pillow tucked behind my head
In the Shire that I love best
No other place, no other rest
is where I’d rather be this Yule
(Except, perhaps, where horselords rule)
Among these folk, my friends, my kin
together we’ll sing the New Year in
And a toast I’ll raise, and drink with pride
to friends afar in the world outside.
The Trees of Middle-earth
Telperion and Laurelin,
The first of all the trees,
Lit up all of Valinor,
The land across the seas.
The mallorn’s found in Lorien
In shades of grey and gold.
Its living boughs are shelter
To elves and hobbits bold.
The great White Tree of Gondor,
Ancient symbol of that realm,
Is guarded by the fountain
By a guy in a weird helm!
So do you have a Christmas Tree?
Behold it with new eyes:
It tells the tales of Middle-earth
To those who are deemed wise.
My name is Rhîw an apt name
for days like this; endless
but not without daily cheer.
Although the air snaps so does
a warm hearth inside a bar.
there by Enchanted River
I wait for ethuil
and the maiden bell flowers.
I wait to kiss the last brown
stalk before the anor wakes
Yavanna’s gifts to Arda.
The Elvish words I’ve used are Sindarin. Here is a glossary:
Narwain = January
Estel = Hope
Rhîw = winter
bar = home
Taure-Ndaedelos = Name given to Mirkwood Forest after the War of the Ring
ethuil = spring
anor = sun
Christmas with the Balrog
In Moria I’d like to be
When winter snows start falling
But not with Trolls or Goblin hoards,
That would be quite appalling.
No! I’d be deep, deep down below,
Snug and warm and toasting,
Sitting with my Balrog friend
With chestnuts ever roasting
On an open fire. That would be grand.
The heat would be really handy,
We’d stuff ourselves with hot mince pies
And pud with flaming brandy.
We’d chat about the Good Old Days
When Morgoth would pop in for tea,
While I bask in Balrog’s cosy home
And warm my toes upon his knee.
So it’s good to know a Balrog
Who’s heart is warm and glowing
And who’s hearth is always 2000 degrees
Even when it’s snowing.
With apologies to Tolkien...
In winter solstice silence,
The armed wanderer bent,
Head bowed to knee, overwhelmed.
“So it begins,” thought he,
“The road to my destiny . . . my hope . . .
But the way is dark,
The enemy is strong,
And I . . . am weak.”
With a sigh,
He raised his doubtful eyes
And beheld the infinite peace and purity
Of the blessed Lady’s immaculate stars.
In their light, his heart swelled,
Remembering his beloved’s words of faith . . .
“A si i-Dhúath ú-orthor, Aragorn,
Ú or le a ú or nin.”
And it seemed to him then
That Varda’s blessed stars
Flashed in the velvet sky,
And likewise, on his breast
The Evenstar glimmered
To honor his Lady’s belief.
“Be iest lîn, Arwen, meleth nin,”
“Forward I go,
In faith . . .
And in the light of
Evenstar and Everwhite,
May our road be blessed!”
From Lindariel’s Daughter, an artwork and a poem:
They left Rivendell on Christmas Day,
And how many wonders they had made,
For when in danger who would come to aid?
They passed over Caradhras’ peak,
For then they heard a dark voice speak.
It was Saruman, as Gandalf had feared,
While Gimli was thinking and scratching his beard.
“Now shall we go?” asked Gimli, excited.
But Gandalf was not very delighted.
He knew Shadow was there,
And it was something none could bear.
Moria. The name made Gandalf shiver.
For who knew what this Shadow could deliver?
“They have brought a cave troll!” interrupted him.
The troll that came was very grim.
After bands of orcs,
A dark light roared.
Legolas trembled, “What is this?
Watcher of the abyss?”
“No,” replied Gandalf, “A Balrog of Morgoth.”
Legolas almost fainted.
With tales of the Balrog he was acquainted.
At the Bridge of Khazad-dum, Gandalf fell.
They had to tell Galadriel.