Dark hair, fair as the night

His laiden crown lost from light.

He has seen a shadow, growing thin

Wondering at his own strength within.

The curse is hard, and his task is long

He will find a way to keep so strong.

A curse besaid to kill past kings, a threat and a desire.

A darkness forged in realms of doom, one ring set with fire.

Heart and mind, body and soul

Must be one if he is to reach his goal.

Stepping aside from foolish pride, he turns to make away,

He steps so light with eyes so thin that it makes him shades of gray.

And as he passes, through the ranks, his heart grows better still.

For ahead lies the cure, of all within, his savior upon the hill.

Yet there is hope that still remains, a way to free his mind,

For Aragorn, Son of Kings, will not forever remain blind.