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Gorlim and Eilinel -- Traitor Betrayed and his White Lady, theirs the beautiful and tragic love story that would have, in better times, been the rival of Beren and Luthien's tale -- and indeed, their tale begins it.

Gorlim betrayed Beren's father Barahir and destroyed their people and their homeland -- all for the love of his wife, Eilinel the White. This is the two of them, Gorlim brandishing his sword over the Northern slopes of Dorthonion overtaken by a dragon and a Balrog looming over the Mound of the Slain, armies marching below, and to the right, the mountains of Dorthonion as they appear over Ard-Galen, the lush green plains that were burned when Melkor's armies invaded from the Helcaraxe. Gorlim wears a kilt because Tolkien's descriptions of the Beorings and their homeland seems so very Scottish, right down to the native plants -- whin and adler and heather, corestones and tarns in the highlands.

The falling cards are personally symbolic, and the one at the bottom is meant to be the 10 of Swords in the Tarot -- "Ruin".

The Elvish writing reads "Traitor Betrayed" and "White Maiden".

The poem, which is hard to read because cell phone camera photos tend to be, is below. It's one of the only poems that's ever made me cry. I'm so pathetic. e.e But it's so them, and so beautiful. One can only hope beyond hope that despite Sauron's promise to cast Gorlim into hell, they found each other in the end.

"Sonnet" by Hillaire Belloc

We will not whisper, we have found the place
Of silence and the endless halls of sleep.
Of that which breathes alone throughout the deep
The end and the beginning; and the face
Between the level brows of whose blind eyes
Lie plenary contentment, full surcease
Of violence, and the passionless long peace
Wherein we lose our human lullabies.

Look up and tell the immeasurable height
Between the vault of the world and your dear head;
That's death, my little sister, and the night
Which was our Mother beckons us to bed,
Where large oblivion in her house is laid
For us tired children, now our games are played.

Description
Gorlim and Eilinel -- Traitor Betrayed and his White Lady, theirs the beautiful and tragic love story that would have, in better times, been the rival of Beren and Luthien's tale -- and indeed, their tale begins it.

Gorlim betrayed Beren's father Barahir and destroyed their people and their homeland -- all for the love of his wife, Eilinel the White. This is the two of them, Gorlim brandishing his sword over the Northern slopes of Dorthonion overtaken by a dragon and a Balrog looming over the Mound of the Slain, armies marching below, and to the right, the mountains of Dorthonion as they appear over Ard-Galen, the lush green plains that were burned when Melkor's armies invaded from the Helcaraxe. Gorlim wears a kilt because Tolkien's descriptions of the Beorings and their homeland seems so very Scottish, right down to the native plants -- whin and adler and heather, corestones and tarns in the highlands.

The falling cards are personally symbolic, and the one at the bottom is meant to be the 10 of Swords in the Tarot -- "Ruin".

The Elvish writing reads "Traitor Betrayed" and "White Maiden".

The poem, which is hard to read because cell phone camera photos tend to be, is below. It's one of the only poems that's ever made me cry. I'm so pathetic. e.e But it's so them, and so beautiful. One can only hope beyond hope that despite Sauron's promise to cast Gorlim into hell, they found each other in the end.

"Sonnet" by Hillaire Belloc

We will not whisper, we have found the place
Of silence and the endless halls of sleep.
Of that which breathes alone throughout the deep
The end and the beginning; and the face
Between the level brows of whose blind eyes
Lie plenary contentment, full surcease
Of violence, and the passionless long peace
Wherein we lose our human lullabies.

Look up and tell the immeasurable height
Between the vault of the world and your dear head;
That's death, my little sister, and the night
Which was our Mother beckons us to bed,
Where large oblivion in her house is laid
For us tired children, now our games are played.