Gandalf vs Tom Bombadil

In the Dappled Glade Gandalf vs. Bombadil

In shadows grey, with staff in hand, The wizard came to wooded land. His eyes were stern, his voice was deep, He woke the willows from their sleep.

“Old Tom!” he called, “a reckoning draws— The world’s at war, we fight for laws! You sit and sing while shadows fall, Will you not rise to heed the call?”

Then laughter rang through fern and tree, As golden boots danced light and free. Tom sang a tune of acorn rain, Of bees and bread, and blossomed grain.

“Gandalf Grey, with eyes like smoke— You worry much for iron and oak. But I was here when stars were born, And I shall sing when they are torn.”

“Even the Ring,” said Gandalf grim, “Falls dead and silent next to him.” He raised his hand, the staff grew bright— The trees stood still beneath the light.

Yet Tom just chuckled, tipped his hat, Then danced a circle round a cat. He plucked a cloud, he kissed a breeze, He vanished laughing through the trees.

Gandalf stood, his power whole— But dwarfed beside that singing soul. No war was waged, no foe was felled— Just wonder, vast and unrepelled.

For some are not to fight or fall, But stand untouched by power’s call. And even wizards, wise and bold, Must bow to what they cannot hold.