The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
Moderator: Greg
- Mirimaran
- Thangailhir
- Posts: 2110
- Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
- Location: North Carolina
- Contact:
The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
Hi all,
I was trying to write something else this morning but this poem had been in my head for a couple of days, so it came out instead. I tried to convey the weight of the burden of a Ranger of Arnor, so this may have been an actual event, or just an allegory. You can decide
The Besting of the Barrow-wight
On the edges of the Shire
lay a mound bare and dire
to play there the greatest of dares
for our parents were not aware
that on top of this barren hill
ringed with stones where the air lay still
we came, my brothers and I
to wonder, tarry and spy
at the black maw that promised excitement
that called to our Tookish blood like an enticement
a carved doorway from which flowed cold cold air
which dampened the hot sun above the stair
that led down into the depths of that dark door
cried my brother, 'What are you waiting for?'
and pushed me down those cold cold steps
until shadows around me crept
and behind me the sunlight strayed
as if it could not stay
and I became so afraid
that to my brothers I bade,
'Stop this game, I want to go home!'
but suddenly, I knew I was not alone
for in the darkness crept without light
something that shuffled in the blackest of night
a cold cold light burst around me
so that I could see
my brothers, laid out in robes pale and white
and across their necks a sword, its blade sharp and bright
and over them like a mist of death
was that thing that did not draw breath
I screamed, I cried, I shook with fear
as the thing grew solid, and near
and a cold cold hand reached out for me
I shook and sobbed but was rooted like a tree
as that hand grasped my arm
and its laughter did the greatest harm
for I knew that we would now die
in the mound where the shadows lie...
A burst of light! A Command of a King!
The shade released me, and hope took wing
words, strong and clear, rang through the barrow
that warmed my heart, bones and marrow
I ran to him, and I clutched his grey cloak
and I knew he was of the Wandering Folk
those Men who Watched, the Men who stood Guard
who were like stone, tough and hard
Men who braved the darkness and feared no danger
the Man before me was a Ranger
'Release them' he commanded the shade
his torch flamed at the demand he made
but that empty glee filled the gloom
as the shade grew to envelop the room
and the torch once so bright
was now like a star in the night
'If you want them, you must best me'
said the shade, 'if you would have them free.'
The Ranger nodded and pulled back his hood
he dropped the torch where we stood
his sword sang as he drew it hence
the sight of it made the shade wince
for in the dim light I could see
upon the blade a White Tree
and seven stars over a crown that glittered like gold
a treasure indeed in this barrow cold
'Steel to bite you if you harm these bairns
between us lies the contest in your cairn
I will best you and drive you away
I will banish you in the light of day!'
Those words, so strong that my heart leapt
but then darkness rose and inside me crept
for the shade just laughed and said,
'A foolish boast from one who is already dead
I am the Darkness, I am the Cold
I am commanded by Rings of Gold
Naught but my Captain can send me away
no death for me by the light of day
but these little ones, I will have this night
and you, Dunadan, will share their fright!'
Then he called out Words I did not know
inside me the terror began to grow
and even the Ranger looked sore afraid
as he faced the laughing shade
'No blade can pierce me, no boast can best
no deed beyond me, naught to lay me to rest
no light to try me, I am the last Breath
no lock to bind me, here I am Death!'
I screamed then and terror took me
I tried to run but could not flee
The Ranger then dropped his blade
and seemed sorry for the boast he had made
'You are mighty, and strong that I can see
like the shadow of those who came before me
no contest can I give you, no weapon you could not from me wrest
but yet...yet might be one thing you cannot best'
The shade laughed and spread his arms wide
'Challenge me, Ranger, before you sail Death's tide!'
The Ranger nodded, and he gave me a smile
and I knew then he meant some guile
'Shade', he commanded, and even the darkness grew still
'I have your besting, take it if you will
for I task you to carry my burden
that of a Ranger, Watcher and Warden
the weight I carry, the dangers I must face
ever the charge and duty of my race
the weight of my office you cannot bear
for I know you have no heart to care'
The shade screamed, and cried, as an invisible weight crushed it down
pinning it to the cold cold ground
and the last thing it knew before it knew no more
that it was bested, and from this world it was tore...
My brothers and I now free stood in the sunlight
behind us the mound now free from fright
its door flung open, the light streaming inside
no more could the shadows hide
and he led us home, that grey cloaked stranger
the barrow-wight bested by the burdens of the Ranger...
I was trying to write something else this morning but this poem had been in my head for a couple of days, so it came out instead. I tried to convey the weight of the burden of a Ranger of Arnor, so this may have been an actual event, or just an allegory. You can decide
The Besting of the Barrow-wight
On the edges of the Shire
lay a mound bare and dire
to play there the greatest of dares
for our parents were not aware
that on top of this barren hill
ringed with stones where the air lay still
we came, my brothers and I
to wonder, tarry and spy
at the black maw that promised excitement
that called to our Tookish blood like an enticement
a carved doorway from which flowed cold cold air
which dampened the hot sun above the stair
that led down into the depths of that dark door
cried my brother, 'What are you waiting for?'
and pushed me down those cold cold steps
until shadows around me crept
and behind me the sunlight strayed
as if it could not stay
and I became so afraid
that to my brothers I bade,
'Stop this game, I want to go home!'
but suddenly, I knew I was not alone
for in the darkness crept without light
something that shuffled in the blackest of night
a cold cold light burst around me
so that I could see
my brothers, laid out in robes pale and white
and across their necks a sword, its blade sharp and bright
and over them like a mist of death
was that thing that did not draw breath
I screamed, I cried, I shook with fear
as the thing grew solid, and near
and a cold cold hand reached out for me
I shook and sobbed but was rooted like a tree
as that hand grasped my arm
and its laughter did the greatest harm
for I knew that we would now die
in the mound where the shadows lie...
A burst of light! A Command of a King!
The shade released me, and hope took wing
words, strong and clear, rang through the barrow
that warmed my heart, bones and marrow
I ran to him, and I clutched his grey cloak
and I knew he was of the Wandering Folk
those Men who Watched, the Men who stood Guard
who were like stone, tough and hard
Men who braved the darkness and feared no danger
the Man before me was a Ranger
'Release them' he commanded the shade
his torch flamed at the demand he made
but that empty glee filled the gloom
as the shade grew to envelop the room
and the torch once so bright
was now like a star in the night
'If you want them, you must best me'
said the shade, 'if you would have them free.'
The Ranger nodded and pulled back his hood
he dropped the torch where we stood
his sword sang as he drew it hence
the sight of it made the shade wince
for in the dim light I could see
upon the blade a White Tree
and seven stars over a crown that glittered like gold
a treasure indeed in this barrow cold
'Steel to bite you if you harm these bairns
between us lies the contest in your cairn
I will best you and drive you away
I will banish you in the light of day!'
Those words, so strong that my heart leapt
but then darkness rose and inside me crept
for the shade just laughed and said,
'A foolish boast from one who is already dead
I am the Darkness, I am the Cold
I am commanded by Rings of Gold
Naught but my Captain can send me away
no death for me by the light of day
but these little ones, I will have this night
and you, Dunadan, will share their fright!'
Then he called out Words I did not know
inside me the terror began to grow
and even the Ranger looked sore afraid
as he faced the laughing shade
'No blade can pierce me, no boast can best
no deed beyond me, naught to lay me to rest
no light to try me, I am the last Breath
no lock to bind me, here I am Death!'
I screamed then and terror took me
I tried to run but could not flee
The Ranger then dropped his blade
and seemed sorry for the boast he had made
'You are mighty, and strong that I can see
like the shadow of those who came before me
no contest can I give you, no weapon you could not from me wrest
but yet...yet might be one thing you cannot best'
The shade laughed and spread his arms wide
'Challenge me, Ranger, before you sail Death's tide!'
The Ranger nodded, and he gave me a smile
and I knew then he meant some guile
'Shade', he commanded, and even the darkness grew still
'I have your besting, take it if you will
for I task you to carry my burden
that of a Ranger, Watcher and Warden
the weight I carry, the dangers I must face
ever the charge and duty of my race
the weight of my office you cannot bear
for I know you have no heart to care'
The shade screamed, and cried, as an invisible weight crushed it down
pinning it to the cold cold ground
and the last thing it knew before it knew no more
that it was bested, and from this world it was tore...
My brothers and I now free stood in the sunlight
behind us the mound now free from fright
its door flung open, the light streaming inside
no more could the shadows hide
and he led us home, that grey cloaked stranger
the barrow-wight bested by the burdens of the Ranger...
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
- Peter Remling
- Athel Dunedain
- Posts: 3740
- Joined: Sat Feb 16, 2008 4:20 am
Re: The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
I liked that one a lot! Thanks for sharing this and the others.
- Faolan
- Silent Watcher over the Peaceful Lands
- Posts: 200
- Joined: Fri Aug 29, 2008 1:20 pm
- Location: Near Bangor, Maine
- Contact:
Re: The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
Very nice!
Many evil things there are that your strong walls and bright swords do not stay.
You know little of the lands beyond your bounds.
Peace and freedom, do you say?
The North would have known them little but for us.
You know little of the lands beyond your bounds.
Peace and freedom, do you say?
The North would have known them little but for us.
Re: The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
Oh, those rascally Tooks! What troubles they cause! I love it both as an actual adventure and an allegory!
- Greg
- Urush bithî 'nKi ya-nam bawâb
- Posts: 4498
- Joined: Tue Dec 02, 2008 8:50 pm
- Location: Eriador; Central Indiana
Re: The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
Most excellent, my good sir.
Now the sword shall come from under the cloak.
Re: The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
Beautiful poem fellow Ranger. Thanks for posting
- Mirimaran
- Thangailhir
- Posts: 2110
- Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
- Location: North Carolina
- Contact:
Re: The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
Many thanks, friends!
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
Re: The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
Very nice! It's great to see some Ranger-related poetry.
And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war.
Re: The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
The hair stood up on my neck and arms while I was reading that! Nice job!!!
Ichthean Forge (pronounced Ick thee an). Maker of knives, and primitive camping gear.
- Mirimaran
- Thangailhir
- Posts: 2110
- Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
- Location: North Carolina
- Contact:
Re: The Besting of the Barrow-wight, a poem
Thanks Eric!
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"