Frodo, Laughing and Very Old Friend

[written_leaves]

Smaller verses for a welcome cart coming over the Hill.

Frodo, Laughing

A brightened sound, a carefree laugh,
He gives in the Shire so green.
A joyful embrace for his wizard friend,
Glad that his waiting's come to an end
For the finest party they’ve ever seen.

His friend returns his warmest clasp,
Gladly enfolds this friend so dear,
In large and gentle hands he holds
One small of frame, with heart so bold
It lights his eyes to have him near.

The sound of innocence and cheer -
This is a valued treasure great;
For such a friendly, welcome smile
Washes away the weary miles,
And lifts, for a moment, the hand of fate.
-

Then to the welcome fireside - there is nothing like very old friends:

Very Old Friend

He clasps his warm and gnarled hands
Hunching over, near to the fire.
His grey robes, travel-stained and worn
Witnessed leagues; he is that tired.

They conceal his well-worn boots beneath
And are wrapped with his belt of leather.
Beside him waits his battered hat
A survivor of varied weather.

In the midst of his silvery beard and hair,
His blue eyes seem piercing, or soft.
They shine, or twinkle or make comment mild
When he holds his white brows aloft.

Long into the night he sits and talks,
And enjoys the peace of this hole.
He sees Bilbo, who hasn't aged a day,
Will give Frodo the greater role.

The cup beside him is too small,
The tea inside long gone cold,
But the companionship of his dear old friend
Fills his heart, and rests his soul.
-