Gender Roles

It's interesting to examine the gender roles in Scarlett and Frank Kennedy's marriage. Of course, they were raised with the knowledge that men were infinitely smarter than women, but as Frank says, "[Frank] was thunderstruck to discover that [Scarlett] could swiftly add a column a long column of figures in her head when [Frank] needed a pencil and paper for more than three figures."Scarlett is the one with a "good head for figures and business" in this marriage, and she has plenty of ideas of how to get the store to earn more money so they can buy the sawmill and consequently earn even more, while Frank just knows in the back of his head, "You know? I kind of want to buy a sawmill sometime." In Scarlett's and Frank's marriage, the common gender roles of the Old South have been reversed, which is extremely unusual. However, the South is moving right along into the New South way of thinking, so perhaps soon this will not be so strange anymore.

Homage to Sharon Stone, by Lynn Emanuel

In "Homage to Sharon Stone," Emanuel touches on many things: Sharon Stone, poetry writing, roleplaying, interior decorating, and gender roles, to name a few. While I could chose any one of those topics, today I'm going to focus on the gender roles. In the beginning, she talks about how her neighbors "hitch themselves to the roles" that they are expected to play, and they are unhappy about it. The term "hitching" implies that they don't have a choice in the matter, that they are shunted into the role. Later she explores the way that she, as an author, can be a man or a woman in her writing; when she is "I", the speaker, she is free from gender prejudices and constraints. However, she says, as a woman, the only way to get yourself out of your set "role" in society is to "gnaw your foot out of the trap." She says that nothing good comes without a consequence, but at the same time, every cloud has a silver lining. While every bite may become a wound, each wound becomes a door, an opportunity. Society is wicked, and closes you in and tries with all its might to lock you into your role. But if you gnaw your foot out of the trap, each red wound may became a red door, and every door something beautiful.

Poem

Yes, in the place where dreams are made,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave,
Where Liberty lovingly sings her song,
There's a broken, wicked land of wrong--
Under the hot, beating, sun,
During the days that stretch so long,
The white man snaps his whip, and there!
The cries of the enslaved you can hear,
They're forced to work for nothing--the whole race!
Because the tyrant has a paler face.

Amid the songs and joyful cries
Of Hallelujah! The great fires
of rage and fear ring out among
The old and wizened, the restless and young.
No more!" some say. "We won't have it!"
How dare you enslave the African race?"
The others say, "We won't quit!
We're better because we have a paler face."

Why must we go on through life this way
Where we are better than the slaves
And make them do whatever we've wanted
And deny them privileges we take for granted
Because of something they cannot change,
Because the tyrants have a paler face.

In the section of Gone With the Wind in chapters 26-30, we see a lot of stereotyping. One bit that really stood out to me was how everyone, even the slaves, said Yankees were savages who "attacked unprotected women, cut throats, burned women alive, and bayoneted children because they cried." According to the Southerners in this book, and possibly Southerners in the real Civil War, every yankee was a child-killing rapist when, in fact, this just wasn't true. Of course, there were a couple, I'm sure, but there were a couple in the Confederate Army, as well. This is an atrocious overgeneralization. It's interesting how they are so appalled that the Yankees burn and steal kill when the Confederates soldiers are doing the same thing. Of course, to the Southerners, to the Southerners, the Cause is the most just Cause in the history of Causes, and they should do anything they can to win over the evil Yankees. But to them, every Yankee, even if they're nice, even if they're not soldiers, is the epitome of evil. And nothing anyone says will change that.

"A Nation's Strength" by Ralph Waldo Emerson, gives us a unique viewpoint on what makes a nation strong. The speaker explains that gold isn't what makes you strong, as it only leads to ruin. Nor is it battle. You can just ask the "red dust of empires passed away," and they'll tell you how war destroyed them. Pride isn't the correct answer, either. Pride leads to destruction as much as wealth and war. No, it's the people, the good, hardworking people, who toil ceaselessly everyday, even "while others sleep;" people who don't care about wealth but honor, and not war but peace. Those are what make up a great nation's strength.

Scarlett v. Gerald

I believe that Scarlett is the stronger person between her and her father. While Scarlett took charge of Tara after Ellen's death and grieved but still kept her head, Gerald completely lost his mind. He was nothing without Ellen, while Scarlett could still manage, was able to move on. She not only has to shoulder the responsibility of taking charge of the plantation, but now she has to take care of Gerald, too, as evidenced on page 376--"[Scarlett] caught herself. This was the way she talked to [her two-year-old son]--she should not address her father like this. But he hung onto her every word." As this shows us, Gerald is reduced to acting like Wade, Scarlett's two-year-old, while Scarlett, who has never run anything so much as a lemonade stand in her entire life, is taking care of the plantation and everyone in it, not to mention the sick soldiers that come around needing medical attention. Right now, Scarlett is stronger than her father, who has alway been her rock, and it's heart-breaking for her.

The Reconstruction

During the Reconstruction, which is explained in chapters 31-34 of Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind, life in the south is hard. Mitchell doesn't go into great detail about the loss of the war and the exact feelings of the characters about it, but in the South in her book, there is barely concealed rage, humiliation, and tension. There's also a lot of confusion, as well. As Mitchell explains, "the scourge of the war had been followed by the worse scourge of the Reconstruction." It's so bad because during the war, there was always the light at the end of the tunnel: "We're going to win this war, and then it'll all be okay again. It'll all go back to normal after we win the war." Now, there's nothing about the realization that this is the new normal, this is how their life is going to be. Ex-Confederates were forced to take an oath of allegiance to the United States before they could vote (Eyewitness Books, "The Civil War," page 62), which was absolutely horrifying to them. Not only that, but Federal troops occupied the beautiful red hills and swamps of the South for 10 years after that, making this the most painful part of the war for the Confederates.

"How Much?" by Carl Sandburg

In "How Much?" by Carl Sandburg, there's a very interesting meaning. It talks about how the speaker might love someone more than a million bushels today, but tomorrow the speaker might not even love them more than a half a bushel. It talks about how there's no real way to measure love, like how there's no real way to measure the weather, and how love is extremely unpredictable. Since the wind can't measure the weather, you can't measure love. You just have to be able to ride the roller coaster it takes you on, one day or bushel at a time.

Gone With the Wind

In Gone With the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell, two male characters, Rhett Butler and Ashley Wilkes, represent two very different ways of life in the South. Ashley represents the Old South, with its quiet, respected ideals and very strict social etiquette. Ashley doesn't think the war is good, or even necessary at all. However, as a respected Old South gentlemen, he is "willing to die for [the Cause]." Rhett, on the other hand, is the personification of the New South, with its slightly risque social behavior and its loud, uproarious, always-excited and on-the-move atmosphere. However, he opposes the war too. And even though it shocks Scarlett that "anyone as absolutely perfect as Ashley could have any thought in common with such a reprobate as Rhett Butler," it doesn't surprise me. I think that the Old South and the New South aren't so very different yet. I think that the New South is clinging desperately to the threads of the Old, and until it can let go and become all its own, Ashley might seem like a reprobate, Rhett might seem like a gemtleman, and the entire Southern society will be in chaos.

"Chicago", by Carl Sandburg

Home plays a big part in Carl Sandburg's "Chicago." In the poem, the speaker acknowledges the problems with gangs and hunger in the city. He tells us that he knows all of those hardships exist in his beloved Chicago. But he also asks us if we have ever seen a city more alive, with more energy, prouder, cleverer. He tells us that Chicago has so much strength and power coursing through it, and those problems can be found anywhere. But there's only one Chicago, and it's nothing like you've ever seen before or will ever see again, because Chicago is always changing, "building, breaking, and rebuilding." Chicago is the speaker's home, and he sneers at those who sneer at his city. Chicago isn't a "little soft city", it's "a tall bold slugger." And to the speaker, nothing compares to his home of Chicago.

Georgia Dusk, by Jean Toomer

In Georgia Dusk, by Jean Toomer, amid the 'feasts of moon and men and barking hounds', there's a glimpse at the oppression there was in the south. It explains how after it's evening and the African-Americans can go home, after they've trudged through field after field they've been forced to clear of forest, you can start to see how great their ancestors in Africa were, how even though they are right now slaves or poor free men, they still have the pomp and dignity of their forefathers. You can see the greatness of the African kings, the high priests, the caravans, and the ju-ju men. You can see the wealth and beauty of their homeland through gaps in the trees as the men trudge home through the swamp. You can see all those things that are smothered every day while they are in the sawmill owned by a white man and reappears again after evening falls.

I've read chapters 8-11 in Gone With the Wind for this assignment.

Scarlett's lives at Tara and in Atlanta are as different as apples and pears. At Tara, Scarlett was expected to conform to all the many (many) rules of Southern society; "Everyone knew you must refuse a man's proposal three times before you can marry him." In Atlanta, she is free from the constraints of living with Mammy and Ellen, and can do whatever she pleases. Also, she lived at Tara before the war really picked up. As Mitchell tells us, in the South during the war, everyone kind of forgot the social etiquette and rules--people were getting married right and left, without the proper courtship rituals! This adds to Scarlett's freedom. In the book, Tara represents the Old South and Atlanta represents the New South, one riding on the crest of the wave of change that overtook the country and, really, the world, in the 1860s.

I'm still reading Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell, and for this assignment I've read Chapters 5-7.

In chapters 5-7, we learn that Scarlett gets married to Charles to make Ashley jealous. However, she just ends up making herself miserable because as soon as Charles goes away to war, he dies of measles and pneumonia. Because of this, she becomes a widow at 17 years old and will basically never get to attend any parties ever again, or have any beau, or have any fun at all. She goes away to her aunts', but leaves after one month because it was so dreadfully boring. She then goes to Atlanta to visit Charles's Aunt Pittypat and Melanie, who she detests, because Melanie stole Ashley away from her. She stays in Atlanta for a long time, and that is where we leave her.

Rhett Butler is still fresh in her mind, sort of a symbol of her last day of freedom. She doesn't hear of him for a long time, but when she gets to Atlanta, she learns that he is someone who runs the blockades, who sneaks precious things into the city in between the Yankee ships. This gets her attention, because she is someone who loves all that is expensive, and she has been missing her silks and taffeta and velvets. However, as she is a widow in mourning, she has had to give up her jewels and ball gowns and beaux. Rhett Bultler is a reminder of all that she has lost and all that she will never be able to have again.

I read The Negro Speaks of Rivers by Langston Hughes last week with my mom. It was really interesting to peel away the different layers of it and figure out what he was really saying.

In The Negro Speaks of Rivers, the first thing you notice is the title (obviously this would be the only thing that you would notice, seeing as how it's the only thing I've given you so far). The title implies that this is going to be a shallow, undeveloped poem written by someone who was hardly literate, if you go with the stereotypes of the time this was written. It's rather self-deprecating, actually. But after you pass the title and go on into the actual poem, you find that it's incredibly intellectual and very deep, exploring many different topics. It's also a slap in the face to white supremacists, and it's kind of interesting to try to find all the jabs.

The poem starts out saying that 'I' (in this case, a black man) have been around since the beginning of civilization and 'bathed in the Euphrates'. The Euphrates and the Tigris were the two rivers that framed Mesopotamia, or the 'Cradle of Civilization'. Man was around before that, but Mesopotamians were the first civilized farmers, who built cities and lived life like it is lived today, without iPads and touch-screen technology. Because the racists whites' opinion was generally that blacks were rowdy and uncivilized, this is kind of saying, "well, you know what? I'm way more civilized than you. I was civilized when you were still hunter-gatherers, hunting bison with rocks."

It then goes on to say that the black man 'built his hut near the Congo' and 'raised pyramids above...the Nile', which was one of the most amazing feats of man ever. Imagine what it would've taken to make those pyramids without machines, only manpower. Another reminder that it was the black man who did that and not the whites.

After that it talks about the 'muddy Mississippi...when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans', and I take that to mean controversy. I also think that it meant that although Abe Lincoln had signed the Emancipation Proclamation, it would take a long time for the dust to settle and for the blacks to be treated as normal people, as equals to the whites. I think that the 'singing of the Mississippi' implies that it was a happy time when Lincoln came down and signed the Emancipation Proclamation.

The Negro Speaks of Rivers is an amazing poem written with a deft, artistic hand. Langston Hughes created a masterpiece in Speaks of Rivers, one that has many hidden secrets that we are still unlocking today, and some that we may never figure out. I had a lot of fun reading the poem and will read it again sometime.

The Negro Speaks of Rivers, by Langston Hughes:

I've known rivers:

I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the      

flow of human blood in human veins.  

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.  

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. 

I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. 

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. 

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln       

went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy      

bosom turn all golden in the sunset.  

I've known rivers: Ancient, dusky rivers.  

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I've started reading Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell, and for this first assignment, I read the first four chapters:

In the first four chapters, we are introduced to some of the characters (Scarlett O’Hara, Gerald O’Hara, Stuart and Brent Tarleton, Ellen O’Hara, Ashley Wilkes, and Mammy) and we learn that Ashley Wilkes is marrying Melanie, though Scarlett wants him to marry her. Scarlett is going to try to win him back and run away with him, which could lead to some interesting results and, consequently, future plotlines and problems. Some big themes are jealousy, pride, gender roles, relationships, racism, and the culture of the South in the 1860s.

Racism and the relationship between whites and slaves is a huge part of Gone With the Wind, because it is set in the South in the 1860’s, in a slave-holding community. The O’Haras are slave holders, and they have hundreds of slaves. It’s interesting to read, because you can see a bit of bias in Margaret Mitchell’s writing. She writes that the slaves don’t mind being slaves, and that they are fiercely loyal to their masters, and that they are perfectly happy. In this book, the slaves have social classes, where even the lowest-ranking field hand is higher than any white or black who is a member of a plantation that has fewer slaves than their plantation does. According to Jeems, the Tarleton twins’ slave, “[Jeems’s] own social status was assured because the Tarletons owned a hundred negroes and, like all slaves of large planters, he looked down on small farmers whose slaves were few.” The slaves apparently enjoy being in their masters’ services, and wouldn’t ever think of running away. However, you can see that the white people definitely hold themselves higher. There are slaves to do everything from carry your sewing box from room to room to swat the wild turkeys away from the porch to work the best cotton land in the world, which of course the white slave owners would never, ever think of doing—that’s for the lesser folk. They treat the slaves like inferiors, just like many of the actual whites did in the days of slavery. While the slaves seem to like being slaves, you can definitely see racism is a big thing in this book and will probably develop into something even bigger when the war starts. I wonder how the slaves will react to the war, and if they will be so keen to stay with their masters once the promise of freedom starts circulating.

Here's some writing on "Song for a Dark Girl" by Langston Hughes

First, the actual poem:

Song for a Dark Girl by Langston Hughes

Way Down South in Dixie
(Break the heart of me)
They hung my black young lover
To a crossroads tree.

Way Down South in Dixie
(Bruised body high in air)
I asked the white Lord Jesus
What was the use of prayer.

Way Down South in Dixie
(Break the heart of me)
Love is a naked shadow
On a gnarled and naked tree.

"Song for a Dark Girl" by Langston Hughes is about the plight of African Americans in the South. The narrator, a young woman, is talking about how the white men lynched her lover and how Jesus is "white" and can't help her. This is a sad, morose tale that happens to be full of irony. One ironic thing in this poem is the fact that it's really only the white people creating the image that Jesus is white that makes people think that. In reality, he wasn't, as he was born in what is today the Middle East. I think that another ironic thing is that they 'nailed her black young lover to a crossroads tree'. For me, the word 'crossroads' means that two roads (or something a road is representing) are intersecting and converging. However, in this poem, I believe that it represents the fact that the two roads (or whites and slaves) could not merge; they could not intersect. It is ironic that they hung him there because it kind of symbolizes an obstacle in the path to desegregation and the intersecting and merging of the two races. The song Hughes incorporated in the poem is ironic, as well. "Way down south in Dixie" is something that racist whites would sing, and Hughes put it in his poem about the horrible injustices and crimes the African Americans had to go through. This poem is a sad reminder of the challenges and prejudices of the past and the challenges and prejudices we have yet to overcome.

Hola, Geekwad here...

Here's some more homeschooling documents. I've read "Roman Fever" by Edith Wharton and done some writing on it and the concept of irony.

The story “Roman Fever” by Edith Wharton is laced generously with irony, some blatant and some hidden. In this story, two women are talking about their youth in Rome while on a Roman holiday and a secret is revealed, probably ending their friendship.

Irony is first revealed when you see the two women's interactions. The author informs us that they lived “opposite each other their whole lives,” meaning not only that they were nothing alike but also that they lived across the street from each other. It talks about them having an “intimate relationship” and being friends since they were young girls. However, when you look at their interactions and conversations, you notice that it's full of snide comments and one-upmanship. Mrs. Slade is very blatant and says some rude things meant to get a rise out of Mrs. Ansley, and Mrs. Ansley is obviously shaken up and kind of mutters and whispers things. Then at the end, we learn Mrs. Ansley's secret and all of a sudden she's at the top and Mrs. Slade is on the bottom, instead of the other way around.

Irony is revealed to us as well in the two women's children. Barbara, or “Babs,” Mrs. Ansley's daughter, is out-spoken, confident, and generally much more like Mrs. Slade than Mrs. Ansley. Jenny, however, is Mrs. Slade's daughter, and is typically quiet, sweet, and angelic, much more like Mrs. Ansley than Mrs. Slade. Mrs. Slade confesses that she would rather have Barbara as a daughter unless she was an invalid, which is ironic, as Barbara is actually Mr. Slade’s daughter.

At the end is some serious irony that absolutely no one expects. We learn that Mrs. Ansley had an itch for Mrs. Slade's betrothed, and that Mrs. Slade had written a fake note to Mrs. Ansley that the man would meet her at the Colosseum after dark, and this is what caused Mrs. Ansley to catch Roman Fever. However, we then learn that Delphin, Mrs. Slade's fiancée, was at the Colosseum because Mrs. Ansley had written back to him and told him that she would be there. Then, the biggest surprise of all, we learn that Babs is actually Delphin's child and not Mr. Ansley's at all! At the end when Mrs. Ansley breaks the news, she becomes the outspoken one in our minds, and the roles are completely reversed.

Irony was a big part of the story. What we had first believed was completely turned around and we ended up with a surprise ending that nobody would have thought of. The irony makes the story extremely interesting and much more fun to read than just a transcript of two people talking about their youth. Irony turned this story into an extremely interesting and fun tale to read.

I've also written an alternate ending to the story:

“Well, I should feel sorry for you! I mean, I had him for twenty-five years and you had one letter that he didn’t even write!”

“But I didn’t need that letter,” Mrs. Ansley said softly.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t need the letter,” she said a little more loudly. “I didn’t need the lette,r because in the end, he was mine.”

“Y-yours?” spluttered Mrs. Slade. “You never had him except for one night in the Colosseum!”

“Yes,” Mrs. Ansley said thoughtfully, “I did have him then. But that night, many years later, that night when he didn’t come home, and you stood by the door waiting for him to accompany you to the Jones’s party—I had him then too. And he never came home after that.” Her eyes were filled with malice.

“Wh-what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying”—Mrs. Ansley gave a mirthless laugh—“I’m just saying…well, let me put it this way: I never invited you over to my house after he died, did I?”

“No…” Mrs. Slade nervously glanced at the wall surrounding the two women, as though wondering how fast she could hop it.

“Well, then, you never saw the new carpet in the back room, you know the one, overlooking the river?”

“No, I didn’t see that. But why does-“

“Alida. I put the carpet down in the back room to cover up the bloodstains.”

Here's some things I've written for my homeschool class for LA:

This was written in response to the story "Story of an Hour"--

Mrs. Louise Mallard had two kinds of heart trouble: one physical, and one mental. The most prominent one was her physical trouble. She had an obviously significant heart disease keeping her from being able to exert herself or take shock very well. Her husband kept her from doing really much of anything in the hope that it would keep her safe and healthy and prolong her life, until he died and she found herself “drinking in a very elixir of life.” He never looked upon her “save but with love,” and she “had loved him—sometimes.” However, this led to her other heart problem, this time causing her emotional and mental grief.

She had never really noticed that she had no life save one inside her home where she was perfectly safe until after she got the word that her husband was killed in a horrific train accident. Then she looked out of her window onto the world which she had never experienced—both metaphorical and physical. She could see her freedom poking down through the clouds and in the words of a far off song, but she could not reach it and grasp it until she opened herself up. Louise had closed herself off from the world just like her family members and husband had in order to keep her safe, so this was not at all easy. In her husband's absence, his friend Richards took over—first breaking the news to her as gently as possible and then shielding Mr. Mallard from her when he came home, though he wasn't fast enough. Her sister also contributed, whispering through the keyhole: “Louise! What are you doing? Come out, you'll make yourself ill!” Everyone tried so hard to keep her safe, but in the end, it was the two heart troubles that killed her.

This was written after rereading "The Fellowship of the Ring"--

Lord of the Rings: Poem Form

The Fellowship of the Ring

Up in the Shire, where they're all half-grown

Where they dwell in holes in the hills green and brown

Gandalf was late coming with the fireworks

But he came in time, and created sparks!

Bilbo Baggins was eleventy-one

The party was a lot of fun

With everyone full from food and drink

Of the evil present, no one would think

He said at last his great big Speech

Many manners and etiquette he did breach

But at the end, as he was done

He vanished with a flash and ran off home

He left on his trip to mountains tall

And valleys wide and Dwarves' halls

He found the Fair in Rivendell

But left the Ring where Frodo dwells

“Keep it secret; keep it safe,”

Gandalf leaned in, whispering to Frodo with haste.

“I'm going to my leader, the great Wizard wise

To see what we can do about the Dark Lord's spies.”

Frodo lived in peace for awhile

but then he found himself without a smile

The Nazgul had taken up to the skies

and were searching for the Ring with hisses and cries.

Gandalf insisted he make for Bree

“It's the only place safe for your company!”

Frodo met Strider, a Ranger of the North,

Who would save him from Man, Wraith, and Orc.

They were headed for Weathertop, the great Amon Sul,

Where Men of old could watch o'er the moor

They could see far and wide all across that land

But it had fallen into disrepair by the Dark Lord's hand.

The Hobbits set up camp in a nice little hollow

Not seen by anyone, not a finch or swallow

But the Wraiths caught up, called by the Ring

And attacked the four, not daunted by Sting.

Strider came up, like a King of Old,

And his face was full of fury terrifying to behold

He seemed full of light, a lion ready to roar

But once the Wraiths left he became small once more.

The Witch-King of Angmar drove his sword

Through Frodo's left shoulder, while the rest of his horde

Had kept the others busy, they didn't know

That Frodo had put on the Ring and the Witch-King spoke

Where the heck was Gandalf? The three hobbits asked

And Strider said he may have already passed

Three days ago, from the look of this rune

Let's hope that up here he did not meet his doom

They fled to Rivendell, where the Elves call home

And Arwen came to fetch Frodo alone

She outrode the Wraiths up to the Fords

And the Wraiths were washed away from the shores.

As Elrond extracted the Morgul-blade shard

Embedded in Frodo's shoulder, Gandalf came up, riding hard

Saruman turned traitor, he warned them all;

He had turned and answered Mordor's call.

“Oh, what will we do?” asked the Hobbits four

“We cannot make it all the way to Mordor!”

They held a High Council in Rivendell then,

To find a team to trek over hill, knoll, and glen.

Frodo whispered, “I will go,” and much to his surprise

He would be accompanied by Gandalf most wise.

And Strider with sword and Legolas with bow;

Gimli with axe and Boromir with his horn to blow.

The four Hobbits short, with their Wizard guide,

And two Men and an Elf and a Dwarf by their side,

Formed the Fellowship of the Ring, the second group of Nine,

To rival even the group by the Dark Lord's design.

They found out also on that infamous day,

That Stider wasn't a lone Ranger like they say,

He was the descendant of Isildur of Gondor,

Heir to the throne, though he chose to wander.

They made for the Pass of Rohan, but the crebain blocked that,

And it went too close to Isengard, where Saruman sat,

So they made for the mountain Caradhras tall,

But then the great peak began to fall.

Caradhras was breaking, and rocks were plummeting down,

And Legolas leaped up from the ground,

saying, “There's a fell voice on the air!” to all that could hear,

And to which Gandalf turned a listening ear.

“Saruman!” he cried. “What the devilry is this?”

You betray us and now you seek to keep us from our quest!”

He added some wizardry and spells of his own,

And Saruman, giving up, let them backtrack down.

“We cannot go that way, certainly not, oh no,”

Said Legolas walking on top of the snow,

“And where else can we turn? The North? The South?”

“Nay, said Gimli, “But if you hear me out,

“I will tell you one other way we could go,

Underneath the trees and hills and snow,

Away from the spies and deadly foes.

To Moria! To Moria let us go!”

Gandalf sighed; his face gray,

He proclaimed that there was no other way.

“We'll have to go,” he whispered with regret.

“But there is danger there that we have seldom thought of yet.”

They trekked down to Moria, the great halls of stone,

Hollowed out by dwarves in ages long ago,

The Mines of Moria are famous, but some say

That they're cursed by the one they call Durin's Bane.

A creature of fire, of doom, of death,

It resides in Moria, woken by the breath

Of living creatures once more roaming the halls

Casting lantern-light on the once dark, dark walls.

They met on the bridge of Khazad-dum,

Gandalf, Wizard, and Balrog, creature of doom,

“You shall not pass! Never!” he cried,

But he fell, and he told them, “You fools! Fly!”

Gandalf had wanted Aragorn to lead them then,

And they made for the safe woods of Lothlorien

Where they met Galadriel, Lady of Light,

And she listened to them and heard of their plight.

Frodo looked into the Mirror with her,

And saw what had not yet been seen nor heard,

He saw the Shire, his home, his heart,

Being taken over by the Lord of the Dark.

“What can I do?” he cried, uncertain

Of whether or not the final curtain

For the last act of the great play of the Shire

Had fallen yet, or was still hanging higher.

“You can destroy it,” she whispered, and he offered the Ring

To her, and it seemed the air began to sing

As she grew great and terrible as the dawn,

But she refused to take it, for its hold on her would be strong.

“It must be you,” she insisted. “Me?”

Frodo asked. “I'm not at all ready!

“I'm just a little Hobbit from the Shire afar,

Me? No, I can't. I'm much too small.”

“No one is too small to save the world,”

she said, and she turned without another word.

She gave them gifts as they departed

All of them downtrodden and heavy-hearted.

They passed through wood and field and fen,

Across moor and plain and gorge and glen

They found Rauros tall and made camp there,

For they heard the Orcs and trembled with fear.

Aragorn found the high seat Amon Hen

And sat upon it, then rose again

For it gave no better council than Elrond wise,

And he looked over the land and then looked to the skies.

He looked in time to see a splotch,

Getting bigger all the time, now more than a dot,

But a monster with wings and a fell rider,

And still it grew ever larger and wider.

Legolas knocked a single arrow

And pulling it back, he let it go

Up past the trees and birds it would fly,

Until it hit its target high up in the sky.

He shouldered his bow again and turned around

Saying, “They're no longer just on the ground,

I've stopped something but that was just his steed,

The Nazgul are getting powerful indeed.”

The Orcs caught up and attacked right then,

having chased the group up, down, and up again

The hills and vales and valleys low

But still they had a long way to go

To Mordor, though it seemed these Orcs would make sure

That they would never get there ever, or worse,

Slaughter them and take the Ring,

Which would, of course, be the end of everything.

Aragorn and Boromir, the two Men tall,

Stood back to back and let their blows fall

And cut down Orcs left and right,

Until Boromir left did the two Men ever think of flight.

Boromir was taken by the Ring,

TO him it meant everything

And he wanted it for himself, for his very own,

Which caused him to leave battle and track Frodo down.

He fought Frodo for it, but Frodo got away,

And ran to the boats, and with Sam still on the bay,

Tried to escape, but Sam caught up,

And rode away with Frodo down the River, and then what?

Legolas and Gimli found Aragorn down

On his knees, and Legolas said with a frown,

“Are you ill? Wounded? What did you do?”

And Aragorn stood up, and they saw and they knew,

That Boromir had been slain in battle at last,

And though he was mighty, the Orcs were too fast,

So they sent him down the falls on a boat,

With the swords of his enemies down by his foot

And his mighty shield on his chest and his hair spread out,

He looked in his glory, and they sent him down

The great falls of Rauros, and sang a song

About his glory and mighty life long.

And they turned away and went back to the woods,

And Legolas stopped and looked through the goods

Then looked up and said with dismay

“Where are the little Hobbits? I cannot find the boat at the cay.”

Aragorn sighed and said in a low tone,

“Frodo and Sam have gone on alone.

I let them go, it will be easier with two

Than five of us to follow through.

“But,” he said, “I intend

To help them even if from five or ten

Or one hundred thousand leagues away,

And I hope you will too, though that they won't need us, I pray.

“Now, about the other two,

Merry the bold and Pippin the true,

The Orcs captured them and took them west,

Towards Isengard, or Rohan at best.

“Who will go with me west, I ask?

Who will carry the burden and shoulder the task?

You must be strong, and loyal, and brave,

For we will run through the night and on through the day!”

“I will,” said Gimli,”

“And I,” said Legolas,

And they all turned and started running through the woods and far to the west,

To find their friends who were stolen by he who at Isengard rests.

Message from Saruman:

Ha ha ha! You three companions bold,

Who run over field and plain and Wold,

who are you to think that you can stop the power

Created by the union of the Two Towers?

Duh duh duhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Hope you enjoy them!

Sincerely, Geekwad :)