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'When You Smile'
When you smile, it's that moment of stillness just before the sun
rises and the world seems to hold its breath, that hushed quiet
before the birds offer their greeting. When you smile, soft rain
kisses the earth, sea birds call tales of the deep, spring blooms
lift their heads to the warmth. When you smile, the whole world
pauses to smile with you, knowing the pleasure that comes from being
at one with all nature.
You do not smile for me, though. How I wish you did. How I wish
something of the way your eyes light and your face warms was meant
for me, but I am an irrelevance, my presence bypassed by your gaze.
Despite my high birth - a prince, my lady, I am a prince,
I want to shout some days - I fear in your eyes I will ever be a
mere craftsman tainted by my grandfather's machinations. Not his
politics; you would never be so crass as to tar me with that brush,
you know how and where I was raised. Just - I make things. As he
made things.
And you see no poetry in me, no adventure, no flash, no glory. And
my hair is not star-silver.
But I can create things, beautiful things, powerful things. And
create I have. Not world-shaping as were the Silmarils, the product
of my grandfather's final great making, but artifacts of power and
wonder nonetheless. In the absence of he whose eyes have watched and
whose elegant fingers have touched and prodded and ordered every
other innovation in these last years, I have made something uniquely
my own. Three rings, objects of great beauty and even greater
cunning, all but sentient in their potency.
Air, fire and water, making and rending, holding and shaping; Nenya
will most meetly grace your perfect hand. Then perhaps I will be
something more than an artisan in your eyes, the tiresome cousin
always tongue-tied in your presence. Then perhaps I, too, will know
your smile.
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