The Lay of Gnome Chomskee
Gnome Chomskee was an elven prince
His shield and
armor had no dints
Forgotten they were stored away
He’d never use them, not even one day
Reside he did in
Gondolin
Played quite well the violin
The tools of war to him were mathoms
Life’s truths and mysteries were his deep fathoms
With paper, quill, and ample ink
He’d write all night or sit and think.
Then one day the
balrogs came
Their mission: to kill and smash and maim
As the battle raged and raged
Our Prince indeed did not engage
He paced and thought of what he’d do
To halt the battle through and through
Then he stopped and donned a smirk
Thought he did: ‘It just might work!’
He grabbed a
bow and sped around
To the tower atop the town
Up the stairs he ran so fast
At the top he paused and gasped.
Battle horrors he did view
Below the soldiers shot and hewed
He took a breath and readied his bow
Prepared he was to make his show
His bow did glide along violin strings
And with his voice effulgence sings
At once all battle paused and quailed
Silencing the violent travail
They looked left and right and all around:
‘Whence comes this quite compelling sound?’
Then up above the reek and haze,
A sight did catch their searching gaze.
They saw a light and heavenly glisten
They espied the
mystery musician.
A song of Power he played and sang
And never once did bowstring twang.
From string through air to ear and heart
The music had done its part.
Quenched was rage and wrath and fear
And every
balrog shed a tear.
That’s all it took to bring the peace
Now foes were friends (for now at least)
The balrogs helped to clean the
city
For the song had stirred their pity.
A feast was prepped, good will imbued
The balrogs made the barbeque.
Elf and balrog danced together
With hearts as light as tiny feathers.
Gnome Chomskee however did not partake
He did not dance nor eat a steak.
For him it’s back to thoughtful writing
Now that he’d stopped the dreadful smiting.
No more battle or noise or annoying riots
All he wanted was peace and quiet.