A/N: a hymn for the Entwives' unknown fate. Do tell me if you notice any feminist undertones.

Song of the Entwives


We are the souls that ride the clouds

To call into some faster sun

To wish and hold for loyal hope

That someday homeward we may come


We are the eyes that sorrow shed

In autumn teardrops raining down

To earth's soil that may someday bear

And we in leafy heaven drown


We are the tale that others tell

Clad in memory, veiled in time

Now floating through the winds that sail

An image of what was once sublime.


We were the hands that sowed our hope

Our love and trust deep underground

The fruit decayed and dust remained

Our wooden bones were never found


We were the words that shook the stone

Of towers black by forest's limb

For others hear of us in dreams

Cloaked in mist, our garden's hymn


And though our feet may never tread

Again the earth we loved as life

We are the freedom sought so long -

In peace we burned, no longer wife.