TIME January 27th
TIME (Today in Middle-earth)
For our newbies who may be wondering what these are about, I started posting TIME almost 3 years ago. As I've read Lord of the Rings for over 34 years, I'd always wondered what was going on with the other members of the Fellowship when I was reading about Sam and Frodo in Ithilien or Merry and Pippin after they were split apart. I started keeping a file on what was happening to them on any given day based on the timeline in Appendix B of the Appendices; so if there was something going on during any given day and/or year (in 3018, 3019, etc.), I listed them all together. There are a lot of events in the story that are not listed in the appendices... so, I've made notes that say (from the appendices) or (not from the appendices). If it says (no text) but there's something there... it's my fanfic... just a smidge. I don't always list something for every year if there's nothing going on; just occasionally for a point of reference. HOWEVER, if you're seriously trying to keep track of the exact dates according to the Shire calendar... these are not accurate dates. The Shire calendar has 30 days in each month (including February), so this would affect the actual date of an event. I am no good at conversions... it hurts my brain to do math(ish) things... so I work with our calendar (as it's used in the appendices)... which I find comforting to follow throughout the story.
In March of 2002, I got the brainy idea to share my madness and post them here; hence, Today in Middle-earth (TIME). Some are short, some get long... depends on events. When there were slow spots in the story, I started posting my BS (Book Spoilers) to fill in the gaps of Rohan... I mean... time.
So there you are, and here we go. Hope you enjoy them.
Today in Middle-earth.
January 27, 3019 (S.R. 1419)
(not from the appendices)
The Fellowship rests in Lothlórien. [Having defeated the Balrog, Gandalf's body lies on the snowy peak of Celebdil]
...... "It was Frodo who first put something of his sorrow into halting words. He was seldom moved to make song or rhyme; even in Rivendell he had listened and had not sung himself, though his memory was stored with many things that others had made before him. But now as he sat beside the fountain in Lórien and heard about him the voices of the Elves, his thought took shape in a song that seemed fair to him; yet when he tried to repeat it to Sam only snatches remained, faded as a handful of withered leaves.
When evening in the Shire was grey
his footsteps on the Hill were heard;
before the dawn he went away
on journey long without a word.
From Wilderland to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill,
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.
With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tongues he spoke.
A deadly sword, a healing hand,
a back that bent beneath its load;
a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,
a weary pilgrim on the road.
A lord of wisdom throned he sat,
swift in anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in a battered hat
who leaned upon a thorny staff.
He stood upon the bridge alone
and Fire and Shadow both defied;
is staff was broken on the stone,
in Khazad-dûm his wisdom died.
...... 'Why, you'll be beating Mr. Bilbo next!' said Sam.
...... 'No, I am afraid not,' said Frodo. 'But that is the best I can do yet.'
...... 'Well, Mr. Frodo, if you do have another go, I hope you'll say a word about his fireworks,' said Sam. 'Something like this:
The finest rockets ever seen:
they burst in stars of blue and green,
or after thunder golden showers
came falling like a rain of flowers.
Though that doesn't do them justice by a long road.'
......'No, I'll leave that to you, Sam. Or perhaps to Bilbo. But—well, I can't talk of it any more. I can't bear to think of bringing the news to him.'"