A Leaf From The Tree A Tiny Tolkien Zine From Altariel 1

Not all the birds LITTLE GREEN MAN
are to be trusted
The Elves, they said, had woken them, but he
They took counsel and said, “Give it to the had moved amongst them at the first drop of
Windlord, brave and true. He can bear this rain. He had seen them born. He heard the
burden for us, to the uttermost end.” But it whisper when the first blow fell; smelt the first
was a long journey, into peril, with the A leaf from the tree kindling and knew what it forebode. He felt the
Winged Terror beating always at his back, anger pulse and throb and quicken.
and no companions for his flight.
Here is a collection of short pieces based on the Dawn is spreading out across the forest. The
works of JRR Tolkien that I have written over the last leaves are new and green, and the blackbird’s
Long have we guarded our borders, but
20 years. Almost all of them are drabbles, that is, eyes are bright and restless. Down in a dark
how can men guard against the sky? First
stories of exactly 100 words. One isn’t. place, the willow creaks. Three ages of the sun
the grey mist feathered out from the East,
and then great clouds of them came, have passed and more, and still he watches.
I’ve written many stories and drabbles and poems Oldest and fatherless. Heart of the wood.
shrouding the lands below. The shelling
based on the works of Tolkien, and you can find more
starts as if heaven itself has turned upon
on the Archive Of Our Own, under my pen-name:
us, and everywhere inhuman eyes are
bright and ever-watchful...
Altariel
The window on the CONSIDER

west PHLEBAS
After the battle,
Trials beneath the trees; tests of the After the blood and the iron,
heart in the garden of Gondor. After the fall and the defeat
After the confession (and the absolution),
We fumble side-by-side in the darkness; Comes the voyage home.
our motives are obscure. We struggle to
sidestep traps and snares. Dark visions The river took me.
have come between us – a grey boat's Little wooden coffin-boat let slip;
passing down the river to the sea. Bright Jetsam bobbing on the water.
visions rise up before us – a great rush
of water; a city of light bejewelled; our Farewell, friends! Farewell, arms!
noontide. Glimpses of lost glory and lost My time is past.
lore. Temptations in the twilight hour. The water holds me now and soon the sea.
Dreams of sunlit lands wash over me
The chance is taken. Faith is kept; light And this world of war recedes.
and wisdom linger in the West.
I am blessed and beloved.
Break bread together. Hold fast A Leaf from the tree I am at peace at last.
together. It will be enough. I am going soon; I am leaving.
A tiny Tolkien zine by I am passing down the river.
Altariel I am passing through my brother’s dreams.
AINULINDALë The Adjudicators

And so we sang, in unison, for we were “That’s not a riddle, it’s a question!”
instruments. The way through “Well, I think that rather depends on whether he’s
I raised my voice, and made the music I the woods speaking physically or metaphysically.”
was made to make;
“I have absolutely no idea what you mean by that.”
Soared, raged, cried;
Others heard, and gave me their accord— “No, you never do...”
Were silenced. Now the shadow-veil lay on the Stonewain Valley. “Will you two shut up? I’m trying to listen!”
Now came the Wild Men, cunning Woses,
And so, what had we sung? Woodcraft-wise, wary of horsemen. “What does he have in his pockets?”
Crash of iron, breath of air, echo of water Hard news they bore of a host-blocked road; “Well, I don’t know!”
Call of darkness. In the mountains beyond, Mundburg was burning.
Instruments, we made the music we were “The Doom of Men.”
made to make, Long was the lane lost to thorn and to thicket. “Oh, you always say that! Not string. Not his hands. Not
And we are bound to it. Long since the Sea-kings carved those stones. nothing... Oh.”
Yet goat-footed Ghân, faithful friend and orc-hater, “Oh dear.”
And so we sang. Led horse and horseman, scout and spear,
Mountains raised, I flattened them; Under gloomgrey trees where the trail was grown “Quite.”
Smooth green fields, I sharpened them; over. They waited. Time passed.
Point counterpoint. Pale light brought fresh wind and the plain way
And so we sing, forward. “Did we determine whether we thought that was a riddle
And this is Arda, nor am or a question?”
I out of it. Grave thanks were given. Thus Thengel’s son “I’ll let you know what I decide,” said Mandos.
Rode forth to the out-walls and feared no darkness.
Mine.

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Not all the birds LITTLE GREEN MAN

The window on the CONSIDER

AINULINDALë The Adjudicators

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