Tuesday, July 3, 2007


So the last of the tarrying elves finally arrived in the West.

And they stepped lightly off their slim silver boats.

And yet they did not find things exactly the way they had expected.

They found themselves in a very quiet place, a wilderness, devoid of any sign of intelligent life.

But perhaps the palaces of heaven were hidden from any cursory examination of the shore, they thought, so as not to tempt the far-seeing mortals overmuch, for mortals were not allowed to set foot in this hallowed place, and there had been some problems with that kinda thing, historically speaking, y'know.

Their hearts were somewhat bewildered by the fact that the loved ones that they had been parted from for a span of time far beyond anything any mortal man could even imagine had not come rushing out to greet them as they arrived.

For surely their boat had been visible to keen elven eyes for many days while it was still far out at sea, and their arrival could not be much of a surprise.

But there were the most beautiful trees all about them, with green and leafy sails unfurled to the wind's gentle caresses, and the birds were singing, and the bees were bee-ing, and stuff, so they took some comfort in that, y'know, 'cause that's how elves are.

And for lack of any better ideas, they began to climb the mountains, for they knew from the tales of old that the gods made their abodes at the top of the mountains, and those who revered them, as all elves did, would live near them, somewhere up there on the slopes, below those heavenly places, to bask daily in that divine radiance.

And maybe their loved ones were busy basking or something, they might have arrived at the daily-divine-radiance-basking-time or something, I mean, that would explain the lack of a welcoming party, y'know.

Or maybe they were being punished for lingering so long in Middle Earth, when the gods had called them home thousands of years ago.

Yah, maybe they were in the Valar's version of the Dog House, maybe they were getting the cold shoulder as punishment for being the Kings of the Lingerers, or something.

But whatever, it wasn't long before their despair faltered, and their hearts gladdened, and their ancient sorrow finally began to lift away, for they began to hear the sounds of music in the distance.

A strange kind of music that they'd never heard before.

Banjo music.

1 comment:

Sundry Chicken said...

"Some may find them merely diverting melodies. Others may find them incitements to Red revolution. And who will say if either or both is wrong? Not I."

— Pete Seeger in Rolling Stone - April 13, 1972