There once was a steward of Gondor
Who found after he’d come very far
That an elf caught his eye
And he started to cry,
For he’d thought that love was no more.
He’d thought that love was a myth,
Even between kindred and kith,
But he’d never beheld
The sight of this elf
And he knew whom his heart yearned to be with
At first, Gondor’s son was quite shy,
Until Legolas learned just quite why.
The elf kissed him gently
So sweetly, Boromir felt he might die.
Then the most beauteous creature
Became a most masterful teacher,
(Though flirting was distant
And most inconsistent
When making love was his most artful feature.)
Their sinful escapades were just delightful
But Boromir felt sadly insightful.
He questioned the heart
On Legolas’ part
And so, pledged, in a voice that was frightful:
“My body is yours, as you said,
But you are all that fills my head.
You’ve pierced my heart
With arrow or dart;
I love you, though we cannot be wed.”
“My passionate man,” said the elf,
“You must not at all doubt yourself;
Your beauty’s beyond measure
And your love I do treasure
Above my home, my heart, or myself.”
So Boromir bowed down low before him
And vowed to love fore’er, no unjust whim.
And loved back the child,
Though the future seemed drear and dim.
Together they spent many a night
With much fun and devilish delight,
Despite the dark dangers
And most evil strangers.
For, with each other they found their true light.
So, these two found love in their souls
And completed each half to make whole,
But death came too soon
One late afternoon
And turned the elf’s heart to coal.
Mirkwood’s Prince would ne’er smile again
Whether among dwarf, elf, or men.
Still, this he gave
At a watery grave
“My love, may you find peace, amen.”