Itâs clearly stated in the poem The Last Ship/FĂriel in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil and how Tolkien added it to the Red Book of Westmarch, itâs meant to be a part of the canon Legendarium.
The poem, from Gondor in origin, is told from the perspective of a mortal maiden, FĂriel, who witnesses the final departure of the elves. It is said in the poem that FĂrielâs beauty was so great that a few of the elves wanted her to come with them to the âElvenhomeâ; something that she was almost tempted to do until she remembered that she is a mortal human.
There are two variants, the original and Tolkienâs later revision.
FĂriel looked out at three o'clock: the grey night was going; far away a golden cock clear and shrill was crowing. The trees were dark, and the dawn pale, waking birds were cheeping, a wind moved cool and frail through dim leaves creeping.
She watched the gleam at window grow, till the long light was shimmering on land and leaf; on grass below grey dew was glimmering. Over the floor her white feet crept, down the stair they twinkled, through the grass they dancing stepped all with dew besprinkled.
Her gown had jewels upon its hem, as she ran down to the river, and leaned upon a willow-stem, and watched the water quiver. A kingfisher plunged down like a stone in a blue flash falling, bending reeds were softly blown, lily-leaves were sprawling.
A sudden music to her came, as she stood there gleaming with free hair in the morning's flame on her shoulders streaming. Flutes there were, and harps were wrung, and there was sound of singing, like wind-voices keen and young and far bells ringing.
A ship with golden beak and oar and timbers white came gliding; swans went sailing on before, her tall prow guiding. Fair folk out of Elvenland in silver-grey were rowing, and three with crowns she saw there stand with bright hair flowing*.
With harp in hand they sang their song to the slow oars swinging: âGreen is the land, the leaves are long, and the birds are singing. Many a day with dawn of gold this earth will lighten, many a flower will yet unfold, ere the cornfields whiten.
âThen whither go ye, boatmen fair, down the river gliding? To twilight and to secret lair in the great forest hiding?*To Northern isles and shores of stone on strong swans flying, by cold waves to dwell alone with the white gulls crying?'
'Nay!' they answered. 'Far away on the last road faring, leaving western havens grey, the seas of shadow daring, we go back to Elvenhome, where the White Tree is growing, and the Star shines upon the foam on the last shore flowing. To mortal fields say farewell, Middle-earth forsaking! In Elvenhome a clear bell in the high tower is shaking. Here grass fades and leaves fall, and sun and moon wither, and we have heard the far call that bids us journey thither', The oars were stayed. They turned aside: 'Do you hear the call, Earth-maiden?
FĂriel! FĂriel!' they cried. 'Our ship is not full-laden. One more only we may bear. Come! For your days are speeding. Come! Earth-maiden elven-fair, our last call heeding.'
FĂriel looked from the river-bank, one step daring; then deep in clay her feet sank, and she halted staring. Slowly the elven-ship went by whispering through the water: 'I cannot come' they heard her cry. 'I was born Earth's daughter!'
No jewels bright her gown bore, as she walked back from the meadow under roof and dark door, under the house-shadow.
She donned her smock of russet brown, her long hair braided, and to her work came stepping down. Soon the sunlight faded.
Year still after year flows down the Seven Rivers; cloud passes, sunlight glows, reed and willow quivers at morn and eve, but never more westward ships have waded in mortal waters as before, and their song has faded.
Firiel looked out at three oâclock; the grey night was going. Far away a golden cock clear and shrill was crowing. The trees were dark, the light was pale; waking birds were cheeping;
A wind moved cool and frail through dim leaves creeping. She watched the gleam at window grow, till the long light was shimmering. On land and leaf; on grass below grey dew was glimmering. Over the floor her white feet crept, down the stairs they twinkled, Through the grass they dancing stepped all with dew besprinkled.
Her gown had jewels upon its hem, as she ran down to the river, And leaned upon a willow-stem, and watched the water quiver. A kingfisher plunged down like a stone in a blue flash falling, Bending reeds were softly blown, lily-leaves were sprawling.
A sudden music to her came, as she stood there gleaming, With free hair in the morningâs flame on her shoulders streaming. Flutes there were, and harps were wrung, and there was sound of singing Like wind-voices keen and young in green leaves swinging.
A boat with golden beak and oar and timbers white came gliding; Swans went sailing on before, her swift course guiding. Fair folk out of Elvenland robed in white were rowing, And three with crowns she saw there stand with bright hair flowing.*
They sang their song, while minstrels played on harp and flute slowly Like sea heard in a green glade under mountains holy. The beak was turned, the boat drew nigh with elven-treasure laden, âFiriel! Come aboard!â they cry, âO fair earth-maiden!â
âO whither go ye, Elvenfolk, down the waters gliding? To the twilight under beech and oak in the green forest hiding?*To foam that falls upon the shore and the white gulls crying? To Northern isles grey and frore on strong swans flying?â
âNay! Out and onward, far away past oak and elm and willow, Leaving western havens grey, cleaving the green billow, We go back to Elvenhome beyond the last mountains, Whose feet are in the outer foam of the worldâs deep fountains. In Elvenhome a clear bell is in white tower shaking! To wood and water say farewell, the long road taking! Here grass fades and leaves fall and sun and moon wither; And to few comes the far call that bids them journey hither.â
Firiel looked from the river-bank, one step daring; And then her heart misgave and shrank, and she halted staring.
Higher climbed the round sun, and the dew was drying; Faint faded, one by one, their far voices crying. No jewels bright her gown bore, as she walked back from the water,
Under roof and dark door, earthâs fair daughter. At eight oâclock in green and white, with long hair braided, She tripped down, leaving night and a vision faded.
Up climbed the round sun, and the world was busy, In and out, walk and run, like an anthill dizzy. Inside the house were feet going pitter-patter; Brooms, dusters, mats to beat, pails, and dishes clatter.
Breakfast was on table laid; there were voices loud and merry; There was jam, honey, marmalade, milk and fruit, and berry. Of this and that people spoke, jest, work, and money, Shooting bird, and felling oak, and âplease, pass the honey!â
*Itâs pretty clear the identities of the crowned elves- CĂrdan, Celeborn, and Thranduil, as they were the last of the Elven-lords/kings who remained in Arda. The mention of the secret lair in the great forest seems to be a reference to Greenwood, made even more apparent when the line is replaced with âbeech and oak in green forestâ which is reminiscent of the description Tolkien gives Thranduilâs forest in The Silmarillion.
