Disclaimer: I don't own the Lord of the Rings or any plotlines or characters contained therein.





In the chill of winter, drawing nigh,
The birds away are flying high.
The dawn comes o'er the mountains east;
The god of splendor takes his feast.

This valley, peaceful, warm and calm,
It offers friends a healing balm.
The Lord within is wise and fell,
And dwells with peace in Rivendell.

Now, rested, soothèd, happy, safe,
The Hobbits comfort there did take.
But journey, over, done and well?
Ah! no; the road is long and fell.

The Ring is heavy, doom it sought,
Ensnare the Bearer! He is caught
'Twixt home and hell, forever scarred
And sad and lost, his soul so tir'd.

The paths ahead are grim and rough,
The mission to fulfill is tough.
The way is dark, the foe gives fear,
And doom does to the Comp'ny near.