The
Lay of the Quest for Erebor
Author: wanderingsmith
April 2014
Summary: But what of the one named hero of the tale, you say,
That smallest Companion of a king?
Let's stick to calling it a story, a Lay, instead of a minstrel
song as it was originally supposed to be. (bad) Narrative
poetry. Free verse, yeah (or doggerel, lol, take your pick).
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to
pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em.
There was a dispossessed Durin king
Who for his kin searched.
Lost long ago,
When their home fell to a wyrm.
Until a wizard and elves revealed a key.
A Company assembled,
To reclaim the lost kingdom.
Merchants, miners, tinkerers and toy-makers,
And two warriors.
Twelve dwarrows the king would trust without fail.
One more there was, small and strange,
And unknown to those kith and kin.
And it was these fourteen,
Whose loyalty, honour and hearts,
Would meet the tests of a perilous Journey.
Trolls outsmarted
By a would-be burglar.
And a running battle
Through a goblin mountain,
Long-lost elvish swords cleaving a path.
Then a pale orc,
Old foe of the line of Durin,
Did bring down the king.
Only saved at the last,
By the smallest of the Company.
And so the most unlooked-for hero of the tale
Became Bilbo Thorinsshield,
Who stood between wargs and the king.
Short and stout, but with a flame in his fist
And fury in his heart.
Great eagles there came,
And then a changeling bear.
Who did succor and speed the Company.
Onto the terrible forest
Now known as Mirkwood.
Beset by an evil fog of confusion
And taken by giant spiders.
And again the brave Company survived
By the finest of threads.
Through strength and courage and luck.
Only to be captured by Elves
Who would subvert their quest.
But the king kept hope bright in his heart.
His faith in his smallest of Companions,
His unlooked-for shield, unshakable.
One light-footed and canny,
Whom the king had learned
Would never abandon him and his.
And out of that dark place their burglar did indeed get them,
Though the path was cold and treacherous.
To a town drenched in fear and poverty
At the loss of their neighbours and allies,
Two lives of men past.
Though some cried in fear,
They also sped the Company on its way.
Quickly now! Durin's day has come, and the fourteen must to the
gate!
In went the burglar.
Out waited the dwarrows.
Also inside, a dragon there was.
Very much alive.
Though the king's shield-man was stealthy,
Still it woke.
Riddles did the burglar attempt,
Only to fail to trick the canny old creature.
And the mountain shook and smoked,
And the dwarrows ran to the aid of their comrade.
The might of lost Erebor
The small Company brought to bear,
But all for naught!
Tangling ropes, fiery missiles,
Water, and molten gold.
And still the beast took flight
For the nearby town.
Roused to fiery revenge,
Destruction it rained upon the Men.
Until one whose ancestors were lords
Brought that day honour to his blood.
With old Dwarven steel
That sprang true once more.
Bringing down the drake, at long last.
But no rejoicing was had in that burnt town.
For the dragon had wronged many,
And left its greed laying upon a treasure.
Until it seemed that all the free people
Would come to blows.
But for a burglar,
Who would not see his friends suffer
For foolish pride,
And long grudges.
He who had stood his life as a shield,
Now risked his newfound friendships.
Forcing the hands of kings.
But too late, little burglar, too late! For here come the foe!
Great armies of orcs, goblins and wargs,
Ravening over hills,
Into the dragon-desolated valley.
A fell sword day, it was.
Spears broken
And shields splintered.
But ere all hope was lost,
The eagles and the great bear
Did again rise to defend.
And when a red sun finally rose,
The free people were still free.
And allies besides.
For though ill-wounded,
The dwarf king did rise.
And at last offered well-earned recompense.
But what of the one named hero of the tale, you say,
That smallest Companion of a king?
Ah, well, he was forgiven his attempts to wring peace.
And in turn forgave the harsh words served him.
Then for his far-away home he sadly left,
Though always would he be welcomed in Golden Erebor.
Now peace the quiet dwarf king keeps,
With the Men o' Dale
And the Mirkwood Elves.
Prosperity and safety
He and the Company are building
From the ashes of the great battle.
But ever the king's gaze turns West,
Seeking his lost Companion.
AN: I am NOT a
song writer, nor poetry writer.
Once upon a time there was a fic that required a minstrel song
version of the quest (with story tweaks).
And this was the result.
The fic to accompany it... will eventually come.. along with all
the other chapter of other stories I owe to the common
humanity...
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