‘Twas on the borders of Elfland that they met, and this was but the first and the least of the many wonders in their tale. For she was dreaming under a rowan tree when he came swift and soft upon her; and she was wrapped in slumber and crowned with flowers upon her dusky hair. Then startled he cried at this fleeting vision of loveliness and she woke! and saw him elfin-bright, clad in green and of noble bearing, and there was a song in his smile and his feet were light. And she would have fled, but his eyes…
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Out of the East he came, far-traveller and great-hearted, and they welcomed him with song and merriment and awe. For mighty he seemed in their company, and strange were the tales of those deeds by which he had won renown, the aged hero come now to rest. In starlit truesilver was he clad, and girt gleaming at his side was ancientry forged by their own forefathers in the height of their fearsome splendour, and many were the sad years that had passed since their glory failed. Threadbare worn was his cloak, for far and wide had he roamed, the great…
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Please do read this short story first, if you have not already – the following article is merely an unjustified and unrequested attempt at an author’s commentary upon that work! This is a short creative work that I was inspired to write some months ago, by way of a prompt offered by an artist group I’m part of. The prompt itself was simply to explore ‘Faerie’ (and perhaps inspired this entire blog series!) and, from the first, I knew that I wanted to examine it through a slightly novel perspective. I love Bilbo. I have always loved Bilbo as a…
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Ah! to think that once we toiled away at our simple lures, cast out into the cold and shunned by wisefolk. Bereft of trust or love were we then, labouring feebly that we may on occasion entrap some weakminded treat on which to sup. But you knew our tricks and were wise to them, fleeing fairy promise and guarding yourselves with ancient cautions. And we were bereft. Peat bogs and darkling woods were then our haunts; dank and miserable places. Sparkling lights and laughing voices our bait, promise of might and riches our desperate ploy. And we were cold, and…
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