#morrowless

[ymaohoh]

(don't tell me that Eddie wasn't thinking about this very scene when he met Chrissy alone in the woods)

The leaves were long, the grass was green, The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, And in the glade a light was seen Of stars in shadow shimmering. Tinúviel was dancing there To music of a pipe unseen, And light of stars was in her hair, And in her raiment glimmering. There Beren came from mountains cold, And lost he wandered under leaves, And where the Elven-river rolled He walked alone and sorrowing. He peered between the hemlock-leaves And saw in wonder flowers of gold Upon her mantle and her sleeves, And her hair like shadow following. Enchantment healed his weary feet That over hills were doomed to roam; And forth he hastened, strong and fleet, And grasped at moonbeams glistening. Through woven woods in Elvenhome She lightly fled on dancing feet, And left him lonely still to roam In the silent forest listening. He heard there oft the flying sound Of feet as light as linden-leaves, Or music welling underground, In hidden hollows quavering. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, And one by one with sighing sound Whispering fell the beechen leaves In the wintry woodland wavering. He sought her ever, wandering far Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, By light of moon and ray of star In frosty heavens shivering. Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hilltop high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering. When winter passed, she came again, And her song released the sudden spring, Like rising lark, and falling rain, And melting water bubbling. He saw the elven-flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling. Again she fled, but swift he came. Tinúviel! Tinúviel! He called her by her elvish name, And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinúviel That in his arms lay glistening. As Beren looked into her eyes Within the shadows of her hair, The trembling starlight of the skies He saw there mirrored shimmering. Tinúviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair And arms like silver glimmering. Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless. - 'Song of Beren and Lúthien' from The Fellowship of the Ring. J.R.R. Tolkien

[marietheran]

LotR reread - book 1, chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark

Wait, doesn't one chapter from the Little House on the Prairie books have an identical title?? (Sorry, those books were my life, before the Legendarium became my life...)

Back to Buckland!

"Open, in the name of Mordor" -- well now you've certainly made yourself look trustworthy...

Probably the only moment in the book where we're given the POV of someone on Sauron's side for a moment??? Unless we're given the POV of Shelob later, even if she may not actually count as that?

The Bucklanders are really badass though. I love them. If I had to live somewhere in Middle Earth and it couldn't be Rivendell, Lothlorien or Gondor, I would choose Buckland.

Neekerbreekers xdd

And midges :/

Gandalf fighting the Nazgul!

How is it dangerous to talk of Gil-Galad with Sauron's servants at hand, but not of Lúthien, which was as great a defeat of Sauron's??

Only reason I can think of is that the Ringwraiths weren't there when Lulu dearest rescued Beren from Tol-in-Gaurhoth.

Long was the way that fate them bore/ O'er stony mountains cold and grey/ Through halls of iron and darling door/ And woods of nightshade morrowless/ The Sundering Seas between them lay/ And yet at last they met once more/ And long ago they passed away/ In the forest singing sorrowless

I love the phrasing "Sundering Seas". Because that is what they are. They sunder - the Amanyar from the peoples of Middle-earth, the faithful from the Exiles, the living from the dead (as here. but they met once more!)

Wonder how "the great enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant" was received by people before the Silmarillion was out. On a first read, one skips over those things, but I wonder how rereads without having read the Silm would have went.

"The bride-price of Lúthien to Thingol" is an elegant way to put "Thingol trying to get Beren killed without bloodying his own hands together with a dose of 'when pigs fly'" haha

No mention of Finrod😡

"Her line shall never fail"... i.e. there will always be her descendants living in the world? But there must be millions by now, 60 generations from Elros (going through the long-lived royal line - going through "random Númenorean sailor who married a girl in Rhûn in S.A. 1200 to the outrage of his family" there'd be 160) That her descendants will always be good people? ❌❌❌ - Ar-Pharazon. That some of them will always be good people? Or that the eldest child to eldest child line of descent will never end?

"O Elbereth Gilthoniel!" Well done Frodo, you were brave, and even if that bravery might have amounted nothing, the cry worked in its stead.

[legendsofold]

The Song of Beren and Luthien from Lotr: fellowship of the ring, this part specifically, just screams Zelink to me:

"Long was the way that fate them bore

o'er stony mountains cold and grey,

through halls of iron and darkling door

and woods of nightshade morrowless.

The sundering seas between them lay,

and yet at last they met once more.

And long ago they passed away

in the forest singing sorrowless."

[whats-in-a-sentence]

The leaves were long, the grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinúviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold,

And lost he wandered under leaves,

And where the Elven-river rolled

He walked alone and sorrowing.

He peered between the hemlock-leaves

And saw in wonder flowers of gold

Upon her mantle and her sleeves,

And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet

That over hills were doomed to roam;

And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,

And grasped at moonbeams glistening.

Through woven woods in Elvenhome

She lightly fled on dancing fleet,

And left him lonely still to roam

In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound

Of feet as light as linden-leaves,

Or music welling underground,

In hidden hollows quavering.

Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,

And one by one with sighing sound

Whispering fell the beechen leaves

In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far

Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,

By light of moon and ray of star

In frosty heavens shivering.

Her mantle glinted in the moon,

As on a hill-top high and far

She danced, and at her feet was strewn

A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again,

And her song released the sudden spring,

Like rising lark, and falling rain,

And melting water bubbling.

He saw the elven-flowers spring

About her feet, and healed again

He longed by her to dance and sing

Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came.

Tinúviel! Tinúviel!

He called her by her elvish name;

And there she halted listening.

One moment stood she, and a spell

His voice laid on her: Beren came,

And doom fell on Tinúviel

That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes

Within the shadows of her hair,

The trembling starlight of the skies

He saw there mirrored shimmering.

Tinúviel the elven-fair,

Immortal maiden elven-wise,

About him cast her shadowy hair

And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore,

O'er stony mountains cold and grey,

Through halls of iron and darkling door,

And woods of nightshade morrowless.

The Sundering Seas between them lay,

And yet at last they met once more,

And long ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless.

"The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[nina-silvertuin]

The Song of Beren and Lúthien

J. R. R. Tolkien

The leaves were long, the grass was green, The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, And in the glade a light was seen Of stars in shadow shimmering. Tinúviel was dancing there To music of a pipe unseen, And light of stars was in her hair, And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold, And lost he wandered under leaves, And where the Elven-river rolled He walked alone and sorrowing. He peered between the hemlock-leaves And saw in wonder flowers of gold Upon her mantle and her sleeves, And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet That over hills were doomed to roam; And forth he hastened, strong and fleet, And grasped at moonbeams glistening. Through woven woods in Elvenhome She lightly fled on dancing feet, And left him lonely still to roam In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound Of feet as light as linden-leaves, Or music welling underground, In hidden hollows quavering. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, And one by one with sighing sound Whispering fell the beechen leaves In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, By light of moon and ray of star In frosty heavens shivering. Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hilltop high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again, And her song released the sudden spring, Like rising lark, and falling rain, And melting water bubbling. He saw the elven-flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came. Tinúviel! Tinúviel! He called her by her elvish name, And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinúviel That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes Within the shadows of her hair, The trembling starlight of the skies He saw there mirrored shimmering. Tinúviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless.

[middleearthtolkienfantasyart]

The leaves were long, the grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinuviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold,

And lost he wandered under leaves,

And where the Elven-river rolled.

He walked along and sorrowing.

He peered between the hemlock-leaves

And saw in wonder flowers of gold

Upon her mantle and her sleeves,

And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet

That over hills were doomed to roam;

And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,

And grasped at moonbeams glistening.

Through woven woods in Elvenhome

She lightly fled on dancing feet,

And left him lonely still to roam

In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound

Of feet as light as linden-leaves,

Or music welling underground,

In hidden hollows quavering.

Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,

And one by one with sighing sound

Whispering fell the beechen leaves

In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far

Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,

By light of moon and ray of star

In frosty heavens shivering.

Her mantle glinted in the moon,

As on a hill-top high and far

She danced, and at her feet was strewn

A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again,

And her song released the sudden spring,

Like rising lark, and falling rain,

And melting water bubbling.

He saw the elven-flowers spring

About her feet, and healed again

He longed by her to dance and sing

Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came.

Tinuviel! Tinuviel!

He called her by her elvish name;

And there she halted listening.

One moment stood she, and a spell

His voice laid on her: Beren came,

And doom fell on Tinuviel

That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes

Within the shadows of her hair,

The trembling starlight of the skies

He saw there mirrored shimmering.

Tinuviel the elven-fair,

Immortal maiden elven-wise,

About him cast her shadowy hair

And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore,

O'er stony mountains cold and grey,

Through halls of iron and darkling door,

And woods of nightshade morrowless.

The Sundering Seas between them lay,

And yet at last they met once more,

And long ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless.

J.R.R. Tolkien

Art by me

[elmosqueo666]

Huszar - Providencia IV: De los cometas en llamas hicimos vuestro culto ...

[russingon]

BEREN & LUTHIEN:

Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless.

[eldamaranquendi]

Luthien & Beren by https://www.instagram.com/danielosu_art/

As Beren looked into her eyes Within the shadows of her hair, The trembling starlight of the skies He saw there mirrored shimmering. Tinúviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair And arms like silver glimmering. . Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless.

[improbable-rainbows]

Fruit Pizza by MorrowLess on Flickr

[taurielsilvan]

beren erchamion and lúthien tinúviel

Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless.

[mountainpoem]

Song of Beren and Lúthien by J.R.R. Tolkien

The leaves were long, the grass was green, The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, And in the glade a light was seen Of stars in shadow shimmering. Tinúviel was dancing there To music of a pipe unseen, And light of stars was in her hair, And in her raiment glimmering. There Beren came from mountains cold, And lost he wandered under leaves, And where the Elven-river rolled He walked alone and sorrowing. He peered between the hemlock-leaves And saw in wonder flowers of gold Upon her mantle and her sleeves, And her hair like shadow following. Enchantment healed his weary feet That over hills were doomed to roam; And forth he hastened, strong and fleet, And grasped at moonbeams glistening. Through woven woods in Elvenhome She lightly fled on dancing feet, And left him lonely still to roam In the silent forest listening. He heard there oft the flying sound Of feet as light as linden-leaves, Or music welling underground, In hidden hollows quavering. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, And one by one with sighing sound Whispering fell the beechen leaves In the wintry woodland wavering. He sought her ever, wandering far Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, By light of moon and ray of star In frosty heavens shivering. Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hilltop high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering. When winter passed, she came again, And her song released the sudden spring, Like rising lark, and falling rain, And melting water bubbling. He saw the elven-flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling. Again she fled, but swift he came. Tinúviel! Tinúviel! He called her by her elvish name, And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinúviel That in his arms lay glistening. As Beren looked into her eyes Within the shadows of her hair, The trembling starlight of the skies He saw there mirrored shimmering. Tinúviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair And arms like silver glimmering. Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless.

[adelaide-swiftheart-sso]

Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless.

[hello-robin-goodfellow]

Song of Beren and Lúthien

The leaves were long, the grass was green, 

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, 

 And in the glade a light was seen 

 Of stars in shadow shimmering. 

 Tinuviel was dancing there 

 To music of a pipe unseen, 

 And light of stars was in her hair, 

 And in her raiment glimmering. 

 There Beren came from mountains cold, 

And lost he wandered under leaves, 

 And where the Elven-river rolled. 

 He walked along and sorrowing. 

 He peered between the hemlock-leaves  

And saw in wonder flowers of gold 

 Upon her mantle and her sleeves,  

And her hair like shadow following. 

 Enchantment healed his weary feet 

 That over hills were doomed to roam; 

And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,  

And grasped at moonbeams glistening. 

Through woven woods in Elvenhome 

 She lightly fled on dancing feet, 

 And left him lonely still to roam 

 In the silent forest listening. 

 He heard there oft the flying sound 

 Of feet as light as linden-leaves, 

 Or music welling underground, 

 In hidden hollows quavering. 

 Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,  

And one by one with sighing sound 

 Whispering fell the beechen leaves 

 In the wintry woodland wavering. 

 He sought her ever, wandering far  

Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, 

 By light of moon and ray of star 

 In frosty heavens shivering. 

 Her mantle glinted in the moon, 

 As on a hill-top high and far 

 She danced, and at her feet was strewn 

 A mist of silver quivering. 

 When winter passed, she came again, 

 And her song released the sudden spring,

 Like rising lark, and falling rain, 

 And melting water bubbling. 

 He saw the elven-flowers spring 

 About her feet, and healed again 

 He longed by her to dance and sing 

 Upon the grass untroubling. 

 Again she fled, but swift he came. 

 Tinuviel! Tinuviel! 

 He called her by her elvish name; 

 And there she halted listening. 

 One moment stood she, and a spell 

 His voice laid on her: 

Beren came, 

 And doom fell on Tinuviel 

 That in his arms lay glistening. 

 As Beren looked into her eyes 

 Within the shadows of her hair, 

 The trembling starlight of the skies 

 He saw there mirrored shimmering. 

 Tinuviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, 

 About him cast her shadowy hair 

 And arms like silver glimmering. 

 Long was the way that fate them bore,  

O'er stony mountains cold and grey, 

 Through halls of iron and darkling door, 

And woods of nightshade morrowless.  

The Sundering Seas between them lay, 

 And yet at last they met once more, 

 And long ago they passed away 

 In the forest singing sorrowless. 

[tolkienillustrations]

Long was the way that fate them bore, O’er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless.

The Song of Beren and Lúthien

[thelibraryoflittleredwriting]

“Long was the way that fate them bore,

O'er stony mountains cold and grey,

Through halls of iron and darkling door,

And woods of nightshade morrowless.

The Sundering Seas between them lay,

And yet at last they met once more,

And long ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless.”

—J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring