The Tale of the Ring

In the dark fires of Mordor, Clutched in flame and malice, Forged by the hand of the Dark Lord, Lies the One Ring, The one to rule over all the rest, Made by the kings of lore, On the hand of its master, It dwelled till one day, When a war of elf and man, It yet could not withstand, For on that day the ring was stripped from its master's hand, But, yet even then it escaped from the thief's grasp, Covered in cold sand, It lay under the water bed of Anduin River, But, one day it was awakened, from its watery grave, And was slipped on the cold hand of a creature full of greed, In the Misty Mountains it slept under slime and gunk, Until one day it was lost from its new master, And then something happened that the ring did not intend, It slipped on a new hand, A hand of no other but, a hobbit, And in this half ling's pocket, It flew through barren lands, Until it met its new possessor, Another hobbit lad, Whose mission was to take the ring to the one place it can be destroyed, To the dark shadows of Mordor, Where hence it was first forged.

*fael tinu*

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