Shakespearian Sonnets - Hobbits and Dwarves

[written_leaves]

Because short people should stick together.


Peregrin: I'm Coming Too
(from Shakespeare's Sonnet CLI)

You seem too young to know what conscience is:
Yet who knows not, conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle halfling, never be urged amiss,
Lest guilty of others faults thy sweet self prove.
For thou staying near, I will suggest
Thou be a part of this body’s quest, that you may
Triumph in love; Loyalty stays no reason;
And, rising at they name, doth point out thee
As the triumphant prize. Glad to be chosen,
You are contented, though poor traveling it be,
To stand in these affairs, or fall by their side.

No want of conscience hold it that I choose
Your love for him by whose strength we rise or fall.


Bilbo: Hidden Venture
(from Shakespeare's Sonnet CLIII)

Bilbo lay by his book, and fell asleep:
A nephew, his, this advantage finds,
And safe-keeping notes did quickly steep
In the curious-fountain of his mind;
Which borrow'd from his Uncle, so like,
An endlessly lively seeking to endure.
He read a seething tale, which yet no dyke
Against strange 'venturing will find a cure,
But 'neath old Bilbo's eye, found dreams new-fire'd.
The lad, he notes slight movement of the cheek;
Now, sly withal, the help of maps desir'd,
He thither hides his surreptitious peek -

But found no cure: the adventure's help lies
Where Bilbo found new fire - in Frodo's eyes.


Bilbo & Thorin: Ransom
(from Shakespeare's Sonnet CXX)

You who were once betrayed - befriend me now;
For here that anger which I then did feel,
(That stone! I was thus trangression bow'd,
Unless my nerves were brass and hammer'd steel!),
For if you were by my unkindness shaken,
And I, as tyrant, had no leisure taken
To weigh how once you suffer'd in your crime -
O that our night of woe might have remember'd
That deepest sense! So hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd,
The humble salve which wounded bosom fit:

That your forgiveness now becomes a fee:
Mine ransoms yours, and yours ransoms me.


Gimli: Beloved Axe
(from Shakespeare's Sonnet XLVIII)

How careful was I when I took my axe,
Each orc-neck under truest edge to thrust,
That, in my use, it might forever whack
The heads of falsehood, those lacking in trust!
Ah thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy comfort, bears my greatest grief;
Thou, best of dearest, and mine only care,
Are left a-notch'd from that iron thief,
Alas, had I only buried deep in orc-ish chest,
Saving thou that collar! dulled I feel thou art,
Blunt and needing whet-stone. No longer rest
From warrior's pleasures thou, sharpened cut apart.

And thence thy edge wilt be stolen I fear,
For headcount proves thievish for a prize so dear.


Gimli: Friendship Bejeweled
(from Shakespeare's Sonnet LII)

Someday I will be rich, with blessed key
To bring me to my sweet up-locked treasure,
The which I will not every hour survey.
For blunting the fine point of Dwarvish pleasure.
Therefore dwarf gifts are solomn and so rare,
Since seldom coming, in the long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carcenet.
So is friendship with you like treasure chest,
Or as the jewel which the gold doth hide,
To make these Elf-shared decades special-blest,
By slow unfolding of life through your eyes.

Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope,
Being had, to forests, being lack'd, to hope.