pellegrina may already know this, because she is often 'forced' by me to read my literary ramblings. I even sent her my Borribles story, which I am quite proud of but very, very self-conscious about. [How you getting on with that, Pellegrina? Quiver, wibble...]
"She looked upon Gimli, who sat glowering and sad, and she smiled. And the Dwarf, hearing the names given in his own ancient tongue, looked up and met her eyes; and it seemed to him that he looked suddenly into the heart of an enemy and saw there love and understanding. Wonder came into his face, and then he smiled in answer."
-- J.R.R. Tolkien
No one could leave this land unchanged, I knew,
yet thought that righteous anger could prevent
the Elven Forest's magic taking hold
of mind and soul to move my Dwarven heart.
The Elves' dislike and distrust rivalled mine,
and scorned and blindfold I was led inside
the ancient Elven city's roof-less vault.
So found myself, in pointless grievance' thrall,
in company of most unlikely friends
to face the Masters of the Woodland realm
and knew they could not touch my Dwarven heart.
The Lord's impetuous words like bellow's blasts
upon my wrath - as if I did not bear
far greater grief and loss than he could know Ð
cool silver Elf, as iron cast in mould:
so brittle and unyielding were his words,
and never would have reached my Dwarven heart.
But then the Lady spoke and met my eyes:
as candle-flame bursts darkness of a mine
I saw her golden beauty, heard her voice
of ringing bells and knew she understood.
No one has ever left this land unchanged,
and change comes at a price we cannot name:
for good or ill - who knows? - I have been touched
and to the Lady lost my Dwarven heart.