Prompt 25: Poetry
That evening they sat around a much tamer blaze: a comfortable and useful campfire. Amye had snuggled up in Aragorn's lap and fallen asleep, much to Gandalf's amusement.
"What is your road, Thorongil?" the old wizard asked, using Aragorn's current assumed name. "And is it common knowledge that you ride it?" He was concerned that the Harad magician's attack had been directed specifically at the future King of Men, and that Aragorn's identity had been penetrated.
"Lothlorien is my next destination, and yes, I ride as the official ambassador of Rohan." Aragorn understood the cause of the wizard's concern. He shrugged. "I do not know…" he said wearily. "Perhaps I will have to keep riding… it seems my road never ends."
Gandalf nodded in understanding, and began to chant softly:
Roads go ever on and on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Aragorn joined in.
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.
tbc
[The poetry is Tolkien's, of course. Was there perhaps some Coleridge lurking at the back of his mind? "Where Alph, the sacred river ran / Through caverns measureless to man / Down to a sunless sea". Maybe it's just Coleridge lurking at the back of *my* mind when I read this].