Fimbrethel

She lifts her knurled hands to the skies, takes a knobby step towards the horizon. Ever upwards –yet ever still. Still and silent upon the hill.

--

“In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the
Spring.
Ah! the sight and the smell of the Spring in Nantasarion!
And I said that was good.
I wandered in the Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand.
Ah! the light and the music in the Summer by the Seven
Rivers of Ossir!
And I thought that was best.
To the beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn.
Ah! The gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the
Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!
It was more than my desire.
To the pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I
climbed in the Winter:
Ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches
My voice went up and sang in the sky.
And now all those lands lie under the wave,
And I walk in Amboróna, in Tauremorna, in Aldalómë.
In my own land, in the country of Fangorn,
Where the roots are long,
And the years lie thicker than the leaves
In Tauremornalómë“
                          ~Treebeard the Ent in the Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien

 

 

* a lone tree on a lone hill near one of my favorite ‘get aways’