A Dwarf Born ~

Long ago, a dwarf was born

Hewn from stone known not to man

Shaped by a chisel no hand has touched

Molded by a hand no eye has seen

This dwarf was born
Not of bone and blood
But of battle and song

~

The rare dwarf was known to ramble

He wandered from mountain hall to stony keep

He tasted the dust of Arnor

The smells of the Shire lasted not long

Mirkwood was never home

And Fangorn was far too near

The White Mountains felt his heel

Still his axe found no hearth to call its own

~

He tasted Rivendell

And faced the range of Mordor

He knew the land he traveled to be full

Yet over and over his heart cried, “More!”

This dwarf tarried in the land of the elves

But he wanted places they never delve

He wanted to see the King who had made him

He wanted to know what Might could shape

A soul so proud and strong, and yet so bare

Empty, void, a vacant shore

The questions never end

The desolation never filled

~

Eyes red and feet sore

Hands cut, arms raw

Head torn, legs in knots

“WHY!?” He was not afraid to roar

Tears crept

And his soul,  

It wept

Then he saw

Only his knees were sound

Those, they touched the ground

~

“ARISE!”

The dwarf heard the cry

A Voice that made the dust quake

“You are Mine!”

~

Long ago, a dwarf was born

Not of bone and blood, but of battle and song

The Song of his King drives him

The battle of souls fills him

This dwarf was born
Not by hand that is seen

But by Hand that did bleed