Yavanna is one of the Valar, who dwell in the Undying Realms.
Her lovely hair was long and shining bright,
A seemly veil that graced her visage fair;
And from her sprung an otherworldly light,
Like burnish’d gold that has never known wear.
In stature she was as a lofty elm
That spreads its branches proudly to the sky;
She was mistress of Arda’s living realm,
Watching over it with a careful eye.
She was garb’d in raiment of verdant green,
Though often she would take another form;
In all ways she was a fair and just Queen,
And her demeanor was pleasant and warm.
The Lamps spread far and wide their gentle light,
And Yavanna walk’d the land still fair and clean;
There she planted seeds with raptur’d delight,
And eager they sprouted, growing and green.
Then Melkor came and stalk’d the virgin land,
And by treachery extinguish’d the glow
That gave life to each fresh and forming strand:
And Yavanna wept at this wick’d new woe.
Then she sang a song of sadness and grief
Beside the dark green mound next to Valinor,
Lamenting every dark and withered leaf;
The world had never known its like before.
As she sang Nienna wept in sorrow still,
And her tears fell upon the hallow’d ground;
Then two great Trees grew fast upon the hill,
One with gold girt, the other silver crown’d.
Thus Arda awoke from its troubl’d sleep
And the leaves drank in the light of the Trees;
The vines and mosses began to creep
O’er the jagg’d rocks and blissful leas.
But Morgoth would not let the world at ease,
And he whispered words of guile and of doom;
The Spider with appetite to appease
With spite and hunger began to consume.
She filled her abdomen with the Trees’ life
And the world was cruelly darkened once more;
The two Valar came to arrest the strife
That had arrived upon their holy shore.
One Tree shed a lovely silver flower:
One Tree bore a mature and golden fruit;
Nienna’s tears and Yavanna’s song held power,
And the Moon followed the Sun in pursuit.
Of other deeds and ancient lore there are,
Concerning one so learnéd and so fair;
Her wisdom travels near and journeys far,
And in the forest—one might glimpse her there.
She made the mighty shepherds of the trees
To ward off the axes eager and strong;
She is the Giver of Fruits to the ElvesThough many like to claim her for themselves.
This is a fan fiction poem set in The Lord of the Rings universe.
It is Tolkien Weekly #1 on Blaster Bolts & Galaxy Lore.
Your questions and comments are appreciated.