[dolarabee]

Ever read this poem by Yeats? Anyway, I unearthed an oldish album of McKennitt and was listening to it, and when her rendition of this poem came on, I just heard it all so differently. Some images of a very young Boromir straying but a little too far filled my mind and I just thought that a weirding encounter by a wood and lake might have planted this seed of fear and mistrust he seems to harbour the Elves later in life. But then, it could also be the drugs!

do.

~

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of the reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.

Notes: Furthest Rosses near Sligo is famous for it's Fairies. There is here a little point of rocks where, if anyone should fall to sleep, there is danger of them waking silly, the fairies having carried off their souls. (Fairy and Folktales of the Irish Peasentry 1888)

[miriel361]

Ahhhhhhh lovely...

Boromir the changeling? Perhaps the dark elves can capture a human's soul? Yes that could be a plot bunny.

I know! I know! If they are evil, they are no longer elves. Just let me dream on!