This is just a note to self, about a portion from the original version:
“Beneath that evening star dome, lead/
Lord Elrond with his people shed/
the woes of a war torn land/
healed by a fulfilled king’s hand.//
Aboard their swan-carved ships/
with praises high on ruby lips;/
one - with Halflings dressed in vests/
rewarded for a legendary quest.//
Yet some later said by folly of pride/
those brothers fought and lied/
their bonds they broke and took/
all loyalties of oaths forsook.//
Shelda`Mar pleaded for we few to come/
aboard Valithnor’s ship, Cirdan’s drum;/
unto those undying lands of hope and grace,/
yet outraged, Vendu`Mar abandon his place.//
On faded docks did Vendu`Mar argue/
against his brother’s command he drew/
harsh words like a bitter sword that bites,/
though Shelda`Mar in sorrow took flight.//
The wizard Gan`Mereith admonished us/
to be wary against our growing lust;/
Sal`Gilvan and Veth`Dema barked back/
with their own words of black.//
We stayed like an anointed remnant,/
who saw it our goal to rule as imminent,/
teaching a new lore to lesser men/
with a diverse tongue, Sinenya I penned.//
Like unto Sindar was Sinenya made/
with new characters and words I laid;/
letters designed for new purposes crafted/
for initiated secretes were they drafted.//
For the greed of some soon railed apparent/
as our original cravings became too variant;/
instead of being counselors to students in need/
many wayward misguidings did breed.//
Celegreth of the elven Crystal Caves,/
and Kwandol the dwarven mason, made;/
a Great Hall like greeting hands/
domed six hundred years, still stands.//
Close to the bay a watchtower stood/
with a bell’s tolling alarm it would;/
chime forth the hours of the Great Hall/
for secret Brothers to heed its call.//
In that kingdom’s darkened hall we met/
among fireside rituals fussed and fret;/
knowing inwardly we hoped against hope,/
preaching failed expectations, we groped.//
High in that Watchtower’s nest/
its bell replaced we thought best;/
with a pyre set eternally aflame,/
for others to return without shame.//
On the day the oil-soaked wood was lit,/
by Fay`Symodare’s death all were hit;/
the shadow that fulfilled Mereith’s woe,/
the bane of mortal man became our snow.//
From his ashes we gathered a portion/
entombed in an urn with grave distinction;/
the rest we scattered upon the sea/
and swore our own would mix free.//
