clcouch123

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