Chapter 23- Of Tales of folklore

The more i get into lotr, the more i get into lotr.. I mean, its not just a simple movie many fans love it for, i know many of them love The Lord of the Rings for the wars, the battles, the hunks, and the cooliness..but definitely not me, i mean honestly, yes the battles do intrigue me, The knights full of valour gain my admiration, but on top of it, its just all the love in the story. I mean, all those people out there who said that they love lotr do not really love it for what i love it for.. i mean, i like the poems, the songs, and all the bravery, and the love for one another.. At this point of time, writing about the fact that i love poems and songs, i wish i joined Literature.. I know Ms Wong is another ardent fan of lotr, since her childhood days.. She's the number one person i would like to compete with, i think she thinks that i ain't much of a fan because i focus more on the movies while she on the books, but i mix often although i find the movie easier to learn from. She's my number one competitor.. i haven't found any yet, like that time i went to Shi xiong's church, and i think a guy named Wei jie found out that i was a fan, and he told me he was a fan too, then Shi Xiong started telling him that i was the lotr boss there, and he too also kept saying he watched it alot of times, and then shi xiong would say i watched it more, then he would say he read the book, then shi xiong would say i read more.. In the end, i was suspecting that he was a action lover, and he revealed his true colours when he told me he loved the part legolas slid down the stairs at helm's deep rocketing his arrows about.. That did it.. So anyway, i was looking at some lotr poems today and it almost brought the overwhelming tearing (crying) feeling out..Here's some of em i got form a website.



Frodo's Reminescence of Gandalf

When evening in the Shire was grey
his footsteps on the Hill were heard;
before the dawn he went away
on journey long without a word.
From Wilderland to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.
With Dwarves and Hobbits, Elves and Men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tounges he spoke.
A deadly sword, a healing hand,a back that bent beneath its load;
a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,a weary pilgrim on the road.
A lord of wisdom throned he sat,swift in anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in a battered hatwho leaned upon a thorny staff.
He stood upon the bridge aloneand Fire and Shadow both defied;
his staff was broken on the stone,in Khazad-d?s wisdom died.

Samwise:The finest rockets ever seen:
they burst instars of blue and green,
or after thunder golden showerscame falling like a rain of flowers.




This was the song they sang when Gandalf fell in the mines of moria