Re-Share: ‘Alas for Gondolin’

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

This past Thursday saw the release of ‘The Fall of Gondolin‘, the third and final of the great tales from J.R.R. Tolkien’s first age.

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To celebrate this exciting release, we are re-sharing an old poem about the same events of this new book!


Now I look back to Gondolin,

That city bright and fair.

With endless song and shining towers,

And fountains crystal clear.

Its seven gates had warded us,

From the darkening and doubt.

And in our hidden valley dear,

We shut all others out.

Built so proud upon its hill,

A beacon true and sure.

That song and jest and merriment,

Through madness might endure.

We raised it up from barren stone,

To stand the test of time.

Its towers gleamed beneath the sun,

And love and peace were mine.

But where love blossoms

Envy too, takes root in hearts less fair.

The serpents came, and brought their ruin,

And laid my city bare.

So through the mountains we did fly,

To safety in the south.

Where still remained a people free,

Upon the Sirion’s mouth.

But as I passed I turned once more,

My fear and doubts to tame.

No city white did meet my sight,

Nothing but smoke and flame.

The cries I heard, the screams and clash,

The death of all I’d known.

That hope for all should sunder one

From his beloved home.

At last my gaze turned to the West,

Where the setting sun grew dim.

And there I dreamed I saw a star.

…Alas for Gondolin.

-Brad OH Inc.

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The Evocation Series- ‘Mirror Mirror’

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

The following post is part of ‘The Evocation Series’. Click Here for more information about the project, and to learn how to get involved yourself!

Blind Guardian- ‘Mirror Mirror’

Song Link

It’s a strange thing sometimes, to be a writer. Every once in a while, we must crawl out from our literary dens and take in the world around us. Like the groundhog portending the coming of spring we peek out, and a quick glimpse will usually suffice to fill us with sufficient terror and inspiration to send us scurrying back—loaded with ideas, and themes, and a terrible suspicion that the shock of venturing forth may simply not be worth it.

In the silence,

Words of wisdom.

I’ve seen the end of all,

Be aware the storm gets closer.

So, we settle into routine—reporting our fears and hopes from our places of silence and serenity. But what of the world without? The one we use to fuel our stories and mad speculations? As we create better, more hopeful worlds, what is left to those on the outside, living each day the sort of wild fantasies which we delegate to the domain of ink and paper?

Shall I leave my friends alone,

Hidden in my twilight hall?

I know the world is lost in fire,

Sure there is no way to turn it

Back to the old days.

There are moments of reprieve, no doubt. Short periods where the balance appears to be righting itself, and there seems to be some hope for the world. We can get lost in those moments. Still, the keen eye catches the small details, and it is clear, at the end of the day, that the hearts of humanity have not changed, and the course is still set for disaster.

Even though,

The storm calmed down.

The bitter end,

Is just a matter of time.

So, we create the heroes we need. We conjure them out of nothing and trap them with our words. We paint them clear as day—the honest men and women and hopeful children who could change this world in but a day if they were to unilaterally muster their passion for the purposes of decency and reinvention. They look good on those pages. Kind, beautiful, and utterly beyond our grasp.

Mirror Mirror on the wall,

True hope lies beyond the coast.

You’re a damned kind can’t you see,

That the winds will change?

In the end though, they are only stories after all.

-Brad OH Inc.