Voices of Middle-Earth: 9. Eowyn's Wedding

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9. Eowyn's Wedding

 ~*~Eowyn's Wedding~*~

It is the day.
My maids have placed
the bridal wreath
upon my head
my snowy gown spreads
in a bath of pearl
over grass and stone.
I walk in a gold cloud
lilies and blossoms everywhere
pearls and diamonds,
opals and sapphires
bedew my throat and wrists...
or so I am told.
I see them not.
The only gems that I see now
are your eyes before me,
above me, around me
crystal windows perfectly set
in the sunlit tower
that is your soul.
Standing within it I can see
glittering mines, untold splendours
waiting still to be unearthed.
Caverns of mystery, depths unending
sparkling facets, secret streams,
oceans of treasure, undiscovered.
Mountains, meadows, gardens, forests
a thousand horses racing free
a host of swans that rise from the river
a sky high curving, infinite
cloudless, beaming, sun-crowned
rainbowed, wind-kissed,
darkening, star gemmed,
and now it is all mine.
I can scarce take it in....

No blushing maiden I fear you'll find me
deflowered by bloodshed as I have been.
Not even my heart is virginal
having given it once to another
only to have it handed back.
Bruised from the touch of his gentle fingers
I let it fall, traversing the red lair
of forgetfulness and thunder
wishing only to become
the bride of death.
But you looked beyond the stains
and saw only the sorrow
the wounds, the regret
brushing it with your own anguish.
Our tears were blended
our wounds mated on garden paths
where we walked as twin shadows
trailing our sighs as tattered blankets
until the sudden morning found us
and saw purity reborn as love
rising from ash
stretching its wings
in silver fire.
My glacier melted
descending in torrents
rising in fountains of diamond spray
shouting praise!

Now your eyes are fixed upon me
as you lay a cloak of stars
upon my quivering shoulders, saying,
Wear this, Beloved, it was my mother's
now it is thine....
I am proud
to carry her stars
as the day bears the night
eternally awakening
in the rose-streaked
mists of hope.
It is the least that I can do.
Can you thank her for me
for the face to which
I shall wake each morning
for the arms that keep
the wind at bay
for the hands that bless
my skin with springtime
for the heart whose rays
shall herald my dawn?

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Armariel

Status: General

Completion: Work in Progress

Era: Multi-Age

Genre: Poetry

Rating: General

Last Updated: 04/19/11

Original Post: 01/09/05

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