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Son of Harad: 5. Chorus II (Valar Influence)
wandering so far into the blank spaces on Middle-earth maps
even the Valar are loath to track him.
They see his tiny spot
inching along the dunes
sand sand sun blazing hot Harad dunes
bearing north by northwest
towards the coast.
murmurs: “O child!
O battle-scarred Boromir,
so many years gone
and still hearing Barad-dûr in every rustle of wind, pitiful.
Where do you wander?
You had love family home
all good things, all peace
(as I promised!)
but you left them
wife and son, poor poor.
Why did you do that?
I told you not to!”
His spot wavers
the Valar scrutinize
peek through the distance
see that his lips are chapped, all brine-encrusted
his hair greying, thinner by the crown
his thoughts tormented
(still quite handsome, though…)
and his movements
but slow and stiff, nearly spent.
To sea! To sea!
Out on the water, years and years (our time accelerates)
mercenary ship sucked in
violent waves slashing storms
tiny ship tossed and smashed to splinters
oars snapping, tattered sails
Boromir swimming, drowning, back up, pulled down
and Manwë asks Ulmo:
“Just what in Taniquetil
do you think you are doing?
Ulmo smiles, flexes his arms
kicks back another tidal wave,
Respectfully, to you I nod.
Although the air is Your domain,
The sea is mine and mine to claim.
Punishment for lame husband
Who for echoes flees homeland.
That justice I seek to do,
And none can stop me, even You.”
Manwë irritated, dandy sea-brother
such a bother
speaks in rhyme
all the time –
Ah! Look! It leaks out, influences!
Manwë with fiery angered eyes
“Well, just don’t kill him.”
“Súlimo, on this you have my word of honor.
No sea-death for son of Gondor.
The waves will rise and swirl and sound,
But his feet will soon find firmer ground.”
(Manwë makes a mental note to ban rhyming couplets from Arda.)
With the Wave-Whimsy’s guarantee
Manwë sits back
steals away His influence from mortal machinations
delegating is more efficient
so He turns to Irmo, the Dream-God:
“Lórien-gardener, have you any sway
over yon Gondorian’s nightmares?”
was on the other side of Arda
toying with some elvish festivities
at the moment, doing his day job,
but he speeds back, shrugs,
“Little, Highest Breath-God.
They are Mordor devices, remnants of the Dark One.
“Stifle them, influence him,
push him back to where he belongs.”
“As You wish, my lord.”
So with Ulmo battering
and Irmo dream-weaving
Boromir crawls back home
Nienna cries for him
Varda sighs for him
(and Mandos waits for him)
as he travels east along sea and land and familiar White Mounts
to long-abandoned, long-expecting Ecthelion’s.
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