Sting Broke
Does no one remember?
A stab into a spider
(giant, venomous)
And it lost the end, the point
That brought it home
Goodness, but the blade was useful, after
Sharp along the edge, shining blue
With Elven-warning about
Goblins, virtued like the partial blade that
Sting was helpful
And meant something
The aspect was a message
That the merchandising missed
(sorry, I like my t-shirts and believe
what’s on my purchased button, Frodo Lives)
The broken blade still works
When we are broken, we still work
And maybe all of us are parts
In prophecy
Narsil reforged
Something returns
Other things will be remade
But for now, even in parts, we
Can take on foes and win
We persist
C L Couch
X-ray of the reconstructed sword from the Viking boat burial at Ardnamurchan.
Pieta Greaves, AOC Archaeology – Mike Addelman, Faculty of Humanities, University of Manchester. Sent by email to the uploader., CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17036697
On the morning of the last day Frodo was alone with Bilbo, and the old hobbit pulled out from under his bed a wooden box. He lifted the lid and fumbled inside.
‘Here is your sword,’ he said. ‘But it was broken, you know. I took it to keep it safe but I’ve forgotten to ask if the smiths could mend it. No time now. So I thought, perhaps, you would care to have this, don’t you know?’
He took from the box a small sword in an old shabby leathern scabbard. Then he drew it, and its polished and well-tended blade glittered suddenly, cold and bright. ‘This is Sting,’ he said, and thrust it with little effort deep into a wooden beam. ‘Take it, if you like. I shan’t want it again, I expect.’
Frodo accepted it gratefully.
The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 2, Chapter 3, “The Ring Goes South”
Contributor:
Elena Tirie
http://www.henneth-annun.net/events_view.cfm?evid=1096
clcouch123 
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