Fire and Water

Claire WilkinsonMiruvor‘s previous editor, brings you her depiction of Smaug and the Lonely Mountain.

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Taruithorn Songbook

We have a long tradition of filking in the Society, and here I’ve included some compositions more recent than the last revision of the songbook.

Erebor
(Tune: On My Own from Les Misérables)
Martha Buckley, Hebe Stanton and Amrit Sidhu-Brar

Erebor,
The mountain is a-burning;
Erebor,
Our gold has all been stolen;
Without it
Our world can’t go on turning,
For there can be no happiness without our hoarded gold.
 
Erebor,
that dragon took our happiness
Erebor,
That Smaug, he is a bastard.
I suppose
We survived with our families,
But if he’d tak’n our children then at least we’d have our gold!
 
The dragon,
we will return to kill him
The dragon,
He has destroyed our haircuts.
We’ll kill him,
And throw him from our mountain,
that oath that Fëanor swore will be nothing next to ours!
 
The dragon,
The dragon,
The dragon,
he’s taken all our gold!

~~~

The Leaving of Valinor Rag
(Tune: The Vatican Rag by Tom Lehrer)
Owen Cotton-Barratt and others

Morgoth smashed our lamps with ease
So we got some magic trees
Their wond’rous light we must instil
In Silmaril, Silmaril, Silmaril.

But then came Ungoliant
She sucked their nectar – down it went!
Things they then got really bad: Fëanor he lost his dad
The leavin’ of Valinor Rag!

Be friend or foe or seed defiled
Of Morgoth Bauglir, mortal child
In after days on earth shall dwell
No law nor love nor league of hell
Not might of gods, not moveless fate
Shall him defend from wrath or hate
6-5-4-3
Time to slay the Teleri

Valinor will not be missed
We seven sons are mighty pissed
We seek with implacable will
Our Silmaril, Silmaril, Silmaril

The boats are burned to tindersticks
The seven sons now number six
Melian the Maia – let’s go and say hiya
We’re the sons of Fëanor–
Accompaniment by Maglor

Was he a felon or
simply just tellin’ your
Leavin’ of Valinor Rag!

~~~

Gold, glorious gold
(Tune: Food, glorious food from Oliver!)
Hebe Stanton and Amrit Sidhu-Brar

Gold, glorious gold
Gold, glorious gold,
there’s nothing quite like it.
Gold, glorious, gold,
you can even take it to market
And if it gets stolen then
you can just mine more,
it’s GOLD,
wonderful GOLD,
magical GOLD,
glorious GOLD

~~~

Song of the Dwarves of Moria
(Tune: Do you hear the people sing? from Les Misérables)
Martha Buckley

(CHORUS:) Do you hear the dwarf-smiths sing?
Singing the songs they learned of old.
This is the music of a people
Who are quite obsessed with GOLD.
When the beating of our hearts
Echoes the beating of the drums
Then we know we’re about to die when the Balrog comes…

Will you join our mining party
Will you help us in our need?
There’s a tonne of Mithril ore down there just waiting to be freed!
We’ll mine and we’ll dig and we’ll die for insatiable greeeeeeeeed!

CHORUS

~~~

The Moria Song
(Tune: Ding! Dong! Merrily on high)
Various Society members at the 2009 Moria banquet

Drum-drum-drumming in the deep,
the Orcs are getting nearer.
Drum-drum-drumming in the deep
the Cave Troll’s getting clearer

Mo-ooooo-ooooo-ooooo-oooo-ooooo-oria
Balrogs ate our children!

~~~

Aragorn!
(Tune: One Day More from Les Misérables)
Hebe Stanton, Phil Bone and Amrit Sidhu-Brar

GANDALF: Aragorn!

To claim the kingship is his destiny.

He shall restore the ancient monarchy;

Isildur’s Heir shall soon return,

the Steward’s pyre, it then shall burn

Aragorn!

ARAGORN: I must be King, Lord Elrond says.

For Arwen’s hand to be permitted

GANDALF: Aragorn!

ARAGORN & ARWEN: As Beren and his Lúthien,

Our mixed-race love shall be committed

ÉOWYN: One more day all by my self

ARAGORN & ARWEN: A mortal fate we now shall share

ÉOWYN: One more day in Arwen’s shadow

ARAGORN & ARWEN: I was born to be with you.

ÉOWYN: How I hate that stupid elf

ARAGORN & ARWEN The Kingdom shall be made anew

ÉOWYN: She stole Aragorn from me!

DENETHOR: You’re not as good as Boromir

 FARAMIR: I will ride out for you, my father

 BOROMIR: Dad, be nice to Faramir…

 FARAMIR: Our white city shall not fall

 PIPPIN: Then we’ll celebrate with beer!

 FARAMIR: Will my father then love me?

ALL: The time is now, the day is here:

 GANDALF: Aragorn!

 WITCH-KING: Sauron’s victory is assurèd

For no man can murder me,

The white city chall be razèd

Gondor’s remnants then shall flee!

GOLLUM: Watch ‘em run to her,

Rummage through the bones,

We’ll take the Precious, it will be for us alone.

Nasty hobbitses,

One of them is fat,

 The other is a Baggins , SMEAGOL: but he can’t help that!

 ALL: One day to a new beginning

[Non-linear bit with lots of simultaneous voices that can’t be adequately expressed here]

GANDALF: Tomorrow we must win the day
Tomorrow we must find a way

ALL: Tomorrow we’ll discover if the monarchy can be restored,
Aragorn.

Aragorn.

Aragorn________!

A Lament for Tolkien’s Tree

Morgan Feldman shares a poem commemmorating Tolkien’s favoured tree, recently felled from its place in the Botanic Gardens.

Through Oxford over stream and brook, under spire and stone

Blows a wind of somber thought for a pine long known.

Twisted boughs and emerald crown long stood proud and tall

Through many storms and winter frosts until they came to fall.

 

A trunk not white and regal, nor leaves of silver and gold,

Beneath its sturdy branches, many a story were told.

A dismal day has come at last to fell this mighty tree

whose branches spanned from middle-earth to our own history.

 

Yet as all woods must end at last

elven trees too must pass

from sight to memory.

Early Memories

Chris Seeman, one of the Society’s founding members, shares some reminiscences from the earliest of days.

Has it been a quarter of a century already??? I guess that makes us original Taruithorners quite ancient – dare I say “well-preserved.” 1989-1990 was most definitely a year to remember. Yankee exchange student/Middle-earth enthusiast arrives in Oxford and discovers to his amazement that there is no active smile in the heart of Tolkiendom. This cannot be borne! And so Taruithorn was born somewhere in the depths of Christ Church.

One of the things I remember from our first meeting was trying to decide what to call ourselves. “Ancalagon” was one of the first suggestions “because we’re not nice people.” (Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed.) I remember lots of punting on the Cherwell and lots of role-playing into the wee hours, but most of all lots of friendship – we still keep in touch with one another after all these years. Let there be no Breaking of the Fellowship. Take care, all.