Tell Me the Story Author: The Phantom HappyAnny@aol.com G - Poetry Disclaimer: I don’t own much. All specified characters are property of Tolkien. Author’s Notes: Another poem inspired by my best friend, TK. Be sure to compliment her in your reviews. :D Tell Me the Story The red sun was setting behind trees grown wild And the pale moon began its’ long climb overhead While snug in the house was a father and child Said the father, “I’ll tell you one tale before bed.” The little girl thought and she tapped on her chin She was thinking quite hard of which tale she should choose At last! ‘Cross her face slid a sly little grin She’d thought of a story that never could lose “Tell me the story of Gandalf the Wise The one in the Grey! Or was it the White? I can never remember…” she squinted her eyes “It was both!” Father laughed. “Both those answers are right!” “The White AND the Grey, then! Oh, tell me of him Who fought that Big Nasty and fell down the crack But came back just in time when the chances seemed dim Oh! Tell me that story!” And the child settled back. Father opened his mouth to begin his oration But daughter was up with a cry of “No, wait! I’ve changed my mind now!” Father nodded, still patient. “And what is the tale you’d like me to relate?” “Tell me of Merry, almost eaten by Willow! The Merry that became the Magnificent! Oh! Tell me that story!” And she flopped on her pillow. Father smiled, but he waited for one more moment. Sure enough, she recanted. “No, tell me the part About Boromir, brave one who died for his dears Longing for his city, the jewel of his heart…” Here the child paused her talk and sniffled back tears. “I will tell you of him, then,” the Father began But before he could get out two words ‘twas too late “No! Tell me the story of that other Man! Strider with the sword and the secret king fate! “He was the one with the sword that was broken! Wasn’t he, daddy?” she grinned eagerly. “Yes, I’ll tell you that tale,” But it stayed unspoken Again she had changed what the story would be. “Tell me of Pippin who looked in the Stone And talked with the trees and got really more tall!” Father shook his head with a smile of his own As he waited for her mind to settle at all But she had some more left, and her talk wouldn’t end “Tell me of Legolas, with the arrows and bow Who fought all the Orcs with Gimli, the Dwarf friend The two of them really were something, you know?” “They really were something.” The Father agreed. “Is that the tale that you have chosen to hear?” “Yes. No!” cried the child, switching thoughts with such speed “I’ve thought of something much better!” And here, She lowered her eyes for a moment of calm Then said, “Tell of Frodo, who carried the Ring Who walked through the Dark Land, so far from his home I love him so much; he gave up everything.” “I love Frodo, too,” said the dad with a sigh. “So that is the story you want me to tell?” As usual, “No!” was the rapid reply “How ‘bout something scary, that’s nasty and fell?” “Tell me of Gollum! He’s scary, right, Father? He wanted that Ring and he tried all along But he fell off a cliff, now he’s nothing but lava! Oh, tell me that story of someone gone wrong.” “Oh, Gollum was nasty.” Said the Father, quite grim. “I remember that part very well, you’ll recall But are you sure you want something so scary, like him?” “Wait! I’ve thought of the bestest best part of them all!” “Tell me of Sam! The brave and steadfast! The little girl giggled and smiled happily. “His friendship with Frodo forever would last! Right, Dad?” And she poked him, her smile fair to see. ‘That’s right, my dear child.” Father said with a grin. “You think that’s the best part?” “Of course it’s the best!” “Then I’ll tell you that story. Come close, I’ll begin…” And she sat in his lap with her head on his chest. But a glance out the window made him pause with a sigh The sun had now set and completely was gone The moon in its’ silver was high in the sky And bedtime for children was finally anon “My child,” said the father. “It’s gotten quite late The sun is now sleeping and it is late night Such a heady request! We should probably wait I would only have time for one short tale tonight But tomorrow, tomorrow, then, my little girl I will tell you these stories as long as you know Tomorrow we’ll have all the time in the world. Tonight you should sleep. Into that bed you go.” Obediently, daughter crawled into bed But turned ‘round eagerly for her goodnight kiss And father pressed his lips to her fair golden head Never was a scene quite as peaceful as this “Tomorrow, then, father?” she decided to check After all, even sometimes a dad could forget “Tomorrow.” He agreed. She gave him a light peck And he blew out the candle with a grin after that So she snuggled to sleep with a smile and a sigh And the dad smiled as well, then crossed o’er to the door With one final look at his curious butterfly Samwise whispered, “Goodnight, my little Elanor.” ~ The End