An Elf Named Elrond



How is it that an elf can live forever?

He will never age, never weather.

A simple creature withers and dies.

Yet all eternity shall greet his eyes.

The sun will set, the moon will rise.

Thousands of stars will light the skies.

Boulders will crumble and mountains will fall.

But Elrond will live to see it all.

Countless battles won with sword and sheild.

A true genius in the battlefeild.

Friend of Gil-Galad, an Elven-king,

Of whom the harpers still sadly sing

Father of Arwen Evenstar,

The fairest elven maid by far.

Lord of Rivendell, standing tall and proud.

It was there that met a strange crowd.

The fate of Middle Earth at hand,

There met dwarf, elf, hobbit, and man.

The ring illuminating spirits with its evil light.

It was this evil that Boromir could not fight.

The ring Elrond had faced once before,

While slaying orcs by the score.

It was there and then he thought he could control its fate.

Little did he know, it was too late.

Islidur's gaze fell upon the ring as it swayed.

The evil writing in red refused to fade.

His eyes attracted by its reddened blare,

Islidur couldn't help but stare.

Elrond stood, his mouth a gap.

Islidur's face he wished to slap.

The man clutched the ring to his chest.

Refusing to put the evil to rest.

Elrond yelled and scorned,

But Islidur simply would not be warned.

Away from the firey depths of Mt. Doom he turned.

It was the power of the ring for which he yearned.

Just as the wise half-elven lord had foreseen,

The ring was quick to turn mean.

It abandoned Islidur when attacked,

Left him dead with arrows in his back.

And now as if risen from the depths of hell,

Into Elrond's lap the ring fell.

The fate of Middle Earth resting heavily on his brow,

He knew the Nazgul would once again be on the prowl.

A fellowship he created to gaurd the bearer of the ring.

To help defeat Mordor's evil king.

Into the fires of Mt. Doom it must be cast with haste.

The orcs on their trail leaving them no time to waste.

Three hobbits, all of witch a Frodo fan.

Their names, Merry, Pippin, and Sam.

A dwarf not great of hight, yet steardy as a tree.

Son of Go`lin, Gimli.

Two men, one Ranger and one Steward.

Both strong and skilled with sword.

A brawl with them many fear.

Their names are Aragorn and Boromir.

An elf of skill, who let arrows fly fast.

Son of Thrandil, Legolas.

The oldest and wisest off them all,

Gandalf the Grey, standing tall.

Finally, the one most least expected.

The bearer of the ring, to be protected.

Frodo Baggins, with courage beyond his years,

who for the love of his friends, would face his fears.

Elrond let out a heavy sigh.

Feeling as if he were about to cry.

Knowing the ring had sentenced their fate,

He only hoped that this time, it was not to late.