[Arwen] took a white gem like a star that lay upon her breast hanging on a silver chain, and she set the chain about Frodo’s neck. “When the memory of the fear and the darkness troubles you,” she said, “this will bring you aid.” — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
…the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master’s, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo’s side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.
~~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King, Book II, The Land of Shadow.
Don’t you find that if you push really hard on something, you need a little downtime to get ready for the next thing? I do. Finished quilting and any day now I’m going to get going on the next part. Honest!
Yesterday I did a little painting and a little writing. Oh, and it’s the return of the August Postcard Poetry Fest. Tenth year for the Fest, third time around for me. Simple premise – sign up and get put into a group of 31 other people. You send a postcard every day to the people on the list starting with the person below you on the list and everyone else does the same. The leader of the PoPoFest would prefer that we write directly on each card and send it out as is. I’m not quite there. I write on the screen but I don’t edit. So I’m close. You can see last year’s cards up in the menu bar above.
What else. Work. Back to school. Upcoming vacay time and oh yeah better get that project done and done.
Today, this was on my doorstep!
Should be fun after listening to the Silmarillion. Some parts more than once!
Then suddenly, when her hope was almost spent, he woke again, and looked up, seeing leaves against the sky; and he heard beneath the leaves singing soft and slow beside him Lúthien Tinuviel. And it was spring again.
The Silmarillion, Beren and Lúthien, J. R. R. Tolkien
I plowed along tonight, listening to The Silmarillion and to music and enjoying the temperate temperature. 70’s is much nicer for quilting in than 90’s.
Bobbin count for tonight is 11, and I actually quilted 2/3 of another one, but you’ll hear more about that one tomorrow no doubt.
Last night I went down to get the laundry out of the dryer. It was late and I was just going to put it away and go to bed. As I came up the stairs my eye was caught something in the pantry-way along the cellar stairs – could it be? was there really a bottle of Moscato there? This was what greeted me when I took off the wrapper.
And this was the other end of the cork:
Hard not to be happy about that!
t is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule. – J.R.R. Tolkien
Sometime this afternoon, I stuck a silver marking pencil in my hair to pin it up. It worked. I found it when I went to comb out my hair, pre-shower.
Also sometime today I listened to so much Lord of the Rings that my brain started to finish sentences with a random selection of “in Khazad-dûm” or “in Mordor, where the Shadows lie” (or alternatively: “In Mordor, where the shadows are”).
The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge’s fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin’s halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.
Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
The last whose realm was fair and free
Between the mountains and the sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen.
His shining helm afar was seen.
The countless stars of heaven’s field
Were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away,
And where he dwelleth none can say.
For into darkness fell his star;
In Mordor, where the shadows are.
From The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien