Dark thing of flame
That sears, yet gives no warmth,
Whose monstrous shadow clots the very fire it breathes,
What foul pit has spewed you forth
To gut this fragile body,
To rend the delicate, lately-woven threads
Of this frail fellowship?
.
"You shall not pass!"
The staff that bars your way is made of stronger sinews than you guess.
Though you are king of these dank, orc infested halls,
This tiny nine,
All halflings in this monumental cavern,
This mighty tomb,
They shall defend the bridges they have wrought this day
Across deeper, wider chasms than you know,
Against all foes, within them and without.
In face of blood and creed,
They fight for bonds of friendship newly bought
With valorous deed,
Blows dealt and borne, each for all,
Together, Elfdom, Dwarvedom, Numenor and Gondor;
Not the least, the one dealt for the Shire.
.
"You shall not pass!"
Do not think you can consume their fire so soon.
See that speck upon the bridge,
Wizened and grey-mantled;
See that pale flame that glows upon his bent and withered hand?
It is your doom.
You think to haul him down with you
To share your rotted, frozen depths.
You cannot bind him there.
Ties of duty, loyalty and love
Have bound him to his Destiny above,
And they will lift him hence
When fate has chained you to your doom below.
Break his body, burn his soul, you cannot rise.
When dark and light contend, there is no victory for you.
When he who has defeated you ascends the stair
To ford the Bridge between Life and Despair
You shall not pass.
.
You shall not pass.