In Middle Earth I Am Illiterate

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Abstract

and me Or if they speak some archaic form of English or ancient Finnish Which is what I think Tolkien had in mind, It’s been a long time since I read his stuff. Not since the movies. The nine companions, plus the pony who I remember is Sam’s friend Bill Regard me gravely Would anyone like some coffee? I ask.Later, as I travel with them Because they wouldn’t leave a woman alone in the Wild, I make sure to not slow them down. They’re on a mission to save the world, Although they don’t agree as to how (I know things about them that they don’t know about each other Because I know the story, I know how it ends, So it’s awkward and sad talking to Boromir. He looks nothing like Sean Bean).I grow used to the hairy feet, the pointy ears, the swords, but at night I hear wolves, not ones like at home but Middle-Earthly wargs The companions speak soothingly to me, hoping I won’t fret They share their food with me, and I with them Though they’re leery of my freeze-dried meals. Gandalf regards my headlamp with a long and thoughtful look From under his eyebrows and the rim of his hat<p id

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="cae8">The headlamp comes in handy once we’re in the mines of Moria But it doesn’t save the wizard, who still gets dragged into the abyss By the Balrog, who is even scarier than the movie version I’m not much help fighting off the orcs So I try to comfort the remaining Fellowship, once we escape Don’t worry, I tell them, he’ll be back They look at me the way you’d expect them to Which is so disheartening I dig out my iPad My library’s extensive and I’m sure I can find what I wantThe eight of them (no pony) are mildly astonished when the tablet lights up Distracted from their grief by the bright icons Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this but I’d so like to help So I thumb open my reading app and yes, there’s the trilogy I recognize the cover, of course, embossed in 2D gold But when I get to the text, it has transformed into runes I can’t read this, I sayThe men, the hobbits, the elf regard me silently. Legolas, perhaps with pity The rest with something else Then turn away to retrieve their packs and weapons And I watch them go, digging in my pockets for my phone.</article></body>

A free verse poem

On a backpacking trip, I become separated from my party And lost And I end up in Middle Earth. I know this because as I’m powering up my single-burner propane stove Because although I’m good with roughing it I require my pour-over in the morning, I hear footsteps

Strange ones. Like little kids marching with grownups All at once, they stop And I’m surrounded by nine persons. I recognize all of them right away Now it makes sense, why the landscape looks different And why I can’t find my way back

Good morning, I say, wondering if they’ll understand me Or if they speak some archaic form of English or ancient Finnish Which is what I think Tolkien had in mind, It’s been a long time since I read his stuff. Not since the movies. The nine companions, plus the pony who I remember is Sam’s friend Bill Regard me gravely Would anyone like some coffee? I ask.

Later, as I travel with them Because they wouldn’t leave a woman alone in the Wild, I make sure to not slow them down. They’re on a mission to save the world, Although they don’t agree as to how (I know things about them that they don’t know about each other Because I know the story, I know how it ends, So it’s awkward and sad talking to Boromir. He looks nothing like Sean Bean).

I grow used to the hairy feet, the pointy ears, the swords, but at night I hear wolves, not ones like at home but Middle-Earthly wargs The companions speak soothingly to me, hoping I won’t fret They share their food with me, and I with them Though they’re leery of my freeze-dried meals. Gandalf regards my headlamp with a long and thoughtful look From under his eyebrows and the rim of his hat

The headlamp comes in handy once we’re in the mines of Moria But it doesn’t save the wizard, who still gets dragged into the abyss By the Balrog, who is even scarier than the movie version I’m not much help fighting off the orcs So I try to comfort the remaining Fellowship, once we escape Don’t worry, I tell them, he’ll be back They look at me the way you’d expect them to Which is so disheartening I dig out my iPad My library’s extensive and I’m sure I can find what I want

The eight of them (no pony) are mildly astonished when the tablet lights up Distracted from their grief by the bright icons Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this but I’d so like to help So I thumb open my reading app and yes, there’s the trilogy I recognize the cover, of course, embossed in 2D gold But when I get to the text, it has transformed into runes I can’t read this, I say

The men, the hobbits, the elf regard me silently. Legolas, perhaps with pity The rest with something else Then turn away to retrieve their packs and weapons And I watch them go, digging in my pockets for my phone.