The Great Game~

This is a poem my sister, Emma Catherine Smith, wrote.

A slight, deadly smile plays across his lips,

Composed and alert, he enters the room,

Slowly, hands clasped behind his back,

His piercing eyes search the gloom.

Erect and tall, arrogant at times,

Regal and proud, though inspiring as well.

Listening intently, sharp features lit in

Orange candlelight where beyond shadows dwell.

Coming to a halt he watches and waits,

Keen on meeting an old adversary.

The villain steps forth with hardly a sound,

His face bears a devious grin, but is wary.

He sees right through this criminal mastermind:

One tiny creature waiting to stir,

Lo, a crawling, cunning, conniving thing,

Man not at all, but a spider.

Eyes alight, the villain speaks,

“Sincerely, I’m glad you came.

You’re on the side of the angels, I hear,

So shall we begin the game?”

Deadly calm washes over the chamber

He waits a bit longer, then his patience is gone.

Facing his archenemy, he raises his voice,

“The game, Moriarty, is on!”

The Lady Eowyn~

For a contest. 

My dedication to Lady Eowyn of Rohan, forever my favorite character from The Lord of the Rings. 

A strong, courageous soul,

Valiant as they come,

She is a dauntless daughter,

Of her fearless equine kingdom. 

She has faced red dawns,

Laced with tragedy untold,

Yet keeps her head held high

And kempt her hair of gold. 

Her heart is filled to burst

Of steadfast love to give,

Though rejection keeps her heart

At bay, holds back the riv'. 

Fair she is in countenance,

And oft' misunderstood.

Cold like a morn of pale Spring

Not yet come to womanhood. 

A bird trapped through Winter's chill,

Imprisoned by dark power;

Consigned to shrinking halls,

Caged within her bower.

She does not fear the war

Marching to the gates,

She does not fear impending death,

She fears the cage of Fate.

Her frailty is deceptive,

For inside there is a fight

Kindled by a noble flame

Caused in girlhood to ignite

When she lost her parents,

Was left to an ailing king

Poisoned in the mind

All because of a ring.

She longs only to fight,

Defend her people to the end,

Break free of the chafing chains,

The veil of Evil rend.

Only once she has fulfilled

The calling to her which clings,

 Can Love penetrate the Winter chill

And welcome in the Spring. 

Copyright Hannah Scarlett 2013

{Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Tolkien's character of Eowyn. This is only a "fanfic".}

“Thus Aragorn for the first time in the full light of day beheld Éowyn, Lady of Rohan, and thought her fair, fair and cold, like a morning of pale spring that is not yet come to womanhood. And she was now suddenly aware of him: tall heir of kings, wise with many winters, greycloaked, hiding a power that yet she felt. For a moment still as stone she stood, then turning swiftly she was gone.” 
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers