Twas the night before Hobbit, and all through my home
Not a goblin was stirring, not even a gnome
The blu rays were placed by the TV in stacks
With the extended versions and CD soundtracks.
We’d all gone to sleep, more or less, and we dreamed
Of what we would soon be enjoying on screen
Thanks to Phillippa Boyens and Pete Jackson, too
Fran Walsh, Howard Shore and the cast and the crew.
When up on the roof there arose such a noise
Like the dogs had knocked over my collectible toys
So I sprang from the bed and ran to the door
And I grabbed Glamdring so I could give them what for
The moon in the sky seemed to shine with a flame
Like it was echoing fire up from old what’s-his-name
But I could see well enough to perceive in the nightAt the end of a long staff, a twinkling light
Held aloft by an old wizard, grey was his cloak
And around him a gang of fourteen smallish folk
There was one who was smaller by far than the rest
Who was quaint, somewhat humble and casually dressed
While the other thirteen all bore armor and swords
And the wizard looked ruffled and angrily swore
“Now Thorin and Balin and Bombur and Dori!
And Bifur and Bofur and Ori and Nori!
On Oin and Gloin and I see you there, Fili,
Please stay with the rest, you two, Bombur and Kili!”
And he said to the Hobbit who stood by his side,
“Master Baggins, I don’t think that you'll need to hide.”
To the fellowship, he indicated to stay
While he had “just one errand, one part left to play.”
And he vanished right then from the top of my roof
Without any outrageous display, not one poof
But I heard him just then somewhere inside the house
And I climbed the stairs quietly, just like a mouse
So I caught a fair glimpse of that wizardly gent
As he took it all in and saw how much I’d spentOn the books and the videos, (also the games)
The art books and novels, each thing bearing the name
Christened them by their maker, of Tolkien himself
Who’d written these tales of man and of elf
Good John Ronald Reuel, who’d penned them all down
And whose visions live on in the lights and the sounds
For a new generation to have and to hold
And to let inspiration make new tales to be told
As I stood there and thought of the marvelous fables
Old Gandalf the Grey took one look at the table
Where three tickets were placed for the matinee show
So that after elevensies, we could then go
To that movie which we’d been excited to see
About Gandalf and Bilbo and the Dwarven thirteen
Would we get to see Gollum? Oh, yes, this I am clear
But I doubt we’ll see Smaug for at least one more year
Til in twenty thirteen we’ll have the Hobbit, part 2
But then only one more and the movies are through!
This sad thought occurred to me - briefly just then
But before I could go there, or come back again
I discovered that Gandalf was looking at me
And I thought very much that I wanted to flee
But he shook his head no, with his pipe in his teeth
And blew out a small cloud in the shape of a wreath.
He looked tired and thirsty, leaned on his staff
But I held out a chair and he started to laugh
I offered him a drink, but he passed all the same,“We’ve miles to go, and I must not delay,
But we wanted to thank you, and all of the fans
Who have watched us and read us every woman and man
From the oldest to youngest, every parent and child
Who have walked on beside us for all the miles.
We will share these adventures, they’ll never be gone
For this road that we travel, it goes ever on.”
And he said all these things and gave me a stare
But then, suddenly he vanished into thin air
And I heard high above, back outside in the night
With a voice that could give even dark riders fright
“Let us go, Master Hobbit,” and “Let’s ride,” to the rest
“Many miles to go, put our feet to the test!”
And away they all ran, cross the wintry sky
Even Bilbo, who looked like he wanted to cry
But he turned at the last, sharing this wish with me,
“Go on, see the Hobbit, parts one, two and three!”
- Ren Cummins (with thanks and apologies to the aforementioned Misters Tolkien, Jackson and also Clement Clarke Moore)
No comments:
Post a Comment