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Read and enjoy Tolkien inspired poetry by Kristin Krause and Nick Krause...
(Class of 09)
Three creatures small set out on a journey
To Return the Ring of gold.
And soon all three will have born the Ring.
The first a slave, small and shriveled,
Using his mind to deceive.
He gained the ring through the murder of a friend.
To the second it had been given,
And willingly born.
A peaceful, humble creature.
The third was a servant, strong and loyal,
Who mistakenly took the Ring.
There was mischief between the first and third,
A servant and a slave.
Similar creatures, but different still,
They did not serve the same.
The servant loved his master,
And vowed to always be there.
The slave hated his master,
And, yet, could never leave him.
The love of the servant cannot be stopped by death,
But the slave is bound,
And dies, unwillingly, with his master.
The masters went together,
And almost never parted.
One ruthless, cruel, and demanding,
The other gentle, pitying, kind.
The second could not give up pity,
Or he would have admitted defeat.
Loss of pity, for him, the ultimate corruption.
The cruel master is like his slave,
Deceitful in thought, and calculating.
The slave became guide,
Leading the others towards their dark destination.
To the Mountain he was to lead them,
But his deceitful mind began to take over,
And the course was changed.
With pity on his side,
He was able to lead them astray,
A seed of mistrust he planted in the pitying master,
And divided him from his servant.
To the lair of Shelob he led the master,
And there abandoned him.
The servant came to save his master,
But then thought it was not possible.
He took the Ring,
In hope of saving it.
Soon he discovered his master's life was not over.
The servant went off by himself,
For his master was captured.
He placed the Ring on his finger.
Did he really wish for the Ring to be his?
A decision was laid before him,
A terrible choice to make.
He struggled with his desire,
The power to control thousands.
But his heart was stronger,
And loyalty to his master compelled him.
He saved his master,
And, with slight hesitation, returned the Ring.
To the Mountain they went again,
Servant carried master,
As, closer and closer they went,
The master became weaker and weaker,
His burden greater.
They reached the Mountain,
And there the servant confronted the slave.
But pity won him over as well,
And to the slave it seemed,
Pity was again on his side.
He snuck away, and ran to his master,
Who did not wish him near.
The Ring took over the kind master,
As he claimed it as his own.
He placed it on his finger,
But the slave would fight for his master.
The thing he had claimed as his own was not,
And the slave was ever devoted to his master.
He bit off flesh and bone,
All for the master whom he hates.
And there slipped and fell,
To destroy what he loved seemed, perhaps, his fate.
The servant took his master from the mountain,
Still weak, though the burden lifted.
The shadow was gone,
And peace returned to the master.
At the end he was glad,
His servant by his side.
He thought then that all was over,
But both were soon lifted into the air,
As if in a dream they flew.
When they awoke there was celebration.
The two were overwhelmed,
Both servant and master
Brought a great change in the world,
Both were celebrated as heroes.
THE NORTH by Nick Krause,
(class of 08)
The Northland glows in the white crystal air,
The eagle screams her ghostly song,
Piercing the wind of the North winter sky,
While the hungry lynx silently stalks
The sleeping forest of ever green pines.
The howling wolves fly down the mountain
Steeps, those high mountains
Standing tall and wizard-like amidst the
The swirling snow of dazzling white
Like preying wraiths upon their hunt trail.
The wolverine scales the mountain cliffs
Searching for any unexpected goat
To lock his fiery jaws upon.
And on the peak of the highest mountain
Stands the great Northern god,
His skin, shining silver like a sharp sword of steal,
His eyes, burning like white flames,
His hair, a swirling grey mist illuminated
As if by the brightest star.