“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frosts”
From the ashes, a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Rings
“But of bliss and glad life there is little to
be said, before it ends; as works fair and
wonderful, while they still endure for eyes
to see, are ever their own record, and
only when they are in peril or broken for
ever do they pass into song.”
~JRR Tolkien, The Silmarillion
The light of the renewed blade shone with a fierce devotation, nothing lasts forever I thought as I looked at, and I wondered at the sorrow I felt. I loved and I had lost and looking at this blade now, with its glow that illuminated the short space before my eyes I could see the ruins carved into its blade the care it must have taken, the love that must have been given. I wondered at what was lost to make such a fine thing, who had given their heart.
It was a dream, it was all a dream of broken bodies and blood stained river, the water washed everything away, didn´t it? I felt the terror in my body, my lungs trying to keep me alive, heaving air and life into my body, I hoped to god I wouldn´t die that day. I didn´t die that day, and it stayed with me, forever.
The chill in her eyes was enough to light a fire in me, I wanted her to repent to feel guilty to know what she had done. I realized she did, I realized she felt so guilty she was sick of it, she was truly bothered inside and didn´t know what to do with it, she was everything I hated but in that moment, looking into the ice in her eyes, I pitied her.
I looked him in the eyes and realized that we were going to die, we weren´t going to make it out of this battle field alive, the guns were going off outside and they wouldn´t stop until they made corpses of us all. We were all just victims and we didn´t know it yet.
I loved the way her eyes connected with mine, she would duck her head after a moment of looking shy and awkward and trying hard to be casual about it. Beautiful and not knowing it. I looked down at my paper and realized I wanted to be the romantic that would write our names together with hearts and everything. It was unfortunate that I wasn´t, was it even more unfortunate that I didn´t do anything about the way I looked at her? I don´t know, sometimes I feel like a coward.
