1. Legolas'song of home
Oh, lands far away, oh, smell of the Sea,
Of salt and fish, of a fresh breezy wind!..
There over the marshes is an isle of green,
Beyond fiery Darkness, beyond Anduin!
Oh, beautiful Sea, so clear and wide,
A hypnotic voice of the billowing tide,
Both in rabid storms and in warmth of the light
The cry of your gulls is worrying my mind!
Oh, clean lucid waters of your distant coast,
Where waves are playing with a frolicsome breeze!..
Beyond Misty Mountains are old spacious crowns
Of high ancient trees in the garment of leaves.
The air is muggy of breathing of plants,
There grass is stirring beside creeping roots,
The shadows are roaming between the trunks,
In darkness of those impassable woods.
There wild merry twigs interweave in embrace,
And under their cover in thicket of trees
The Green Leaves are dancing, the people of Elves,
A tribe called Sindar from times of dreams.
There nights are like centuries, days - like minutes,
And years are streaming like doping mist…
Oh, Shadows of Time, my wonderful Mirkwood,
The song of the charms, the drowsy drink!
It's my only love, the core of my soul,
And sap of the birches is the blood of my own!...
Too late. My heart was hurt by the foam,
And never on earth it will come back to home.
Of salt and fish, of a fresh breezy wind!..
There over the marshes is an isle of green,
Beyond fiery Darkness, beyond Anduin!
Oh, beautiful Sea, so clear and wide,
A hypnotic voice of the billowing tide,
Both in rabid storms and in warmth of the light
The cry of your gulls is worrying my mind!
Oh, clean lucid waters of your distant coast,
Where waves are playing with a frolicsome breeze!..
Beyond Misty Mountains are old spacious crowns
Of high ancient trees in the garment of leaves.
The air is muggy of breathing of plants,
There grass is stirring beside creeping roots,
The shadows are roaming between the trunks,
In darkness of those impassable woods.
There wild merry twigs interweave in embrace,
And under their cover in thicket of trees
The Green Leaves are dancing, the people of Elves,
A tribe called Sindar from times of dreams.
There nights are like centuries, days - like minutes,
And years are streaming like doping mist…
Oh, Shadows of Time, my wonderful Mirkwood,
The song of the charms, the drowsy drink!
It's my only love, the core of my soul,
And sap of the birches is the blood of my own!...
Too late. My heart was hurt by the foam,
And never on earth it will come back to home.
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.
