West of the Moon
A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive
At the Crack of Doom...
And now here I stand in this
place, not of my choosing
And my thoughts are open to the fire's raging
The world in turmoil around me, there is no time
I have suffered the long and desperate road.
From the first steps I held no other hope
Than to stand here as I knew I must.
This was to be the End:
The end of the quest, my own end,
For I know now, with a dead certainty,
That I would always bear this burden,
That I was bound in the darkness already
That I could not willingly part with it.
So was my despair that I resolved
As I crawled over the stones to this hellish place
That I would fall with this precious thing
Cast both into the fire in one single embrace,
Such a small thing to give for salvation.
To spare the loyal the vision of the end
I would cloak myself in the shadows,
I would not give voice to my death,
I would go like the sigh of the sea,
Like the whisper of leaves in the wind
To save all I loved, for all I cherished once.
But even as I vanished, even as I bound myself to doom,
Somewhere inside a light was still glowing,
A seed of hope, of life, still flickering,
And even as I felt the weight of this wheel settle
Over bone and withered flesh and shriveled thought
I could not bear to die.
To hear it one would think I was possessed,
But the words were in rebellion.
"I have come," yes, to die, to doom...
"But I choose not to do this" not to die, not to cast myself into the flame,
But now, now, how shall I choose? The world will not wait,
And fate is left in my hand, and it is unbearable; it is mine!
Have mercy, have pity, yes...
For it is meek pity that shapes destiny now.
In pity there is found hope, unquenchable,
In which the choice, if not the burden, is removed.
And with it, all my endurance.
It is done, but not by my doing...
I can feel the burden still.