Frodo
Hope is gone,
Memories fade,
Little is left
But what shall be paid.
The pain is burning
The light, swiftly fading
Like a candle snuffed out,
With little hope of returning.
What is left?
Little I see,
But a gold band,
That has power within thee.
Gollum is my guide,
Untrustworthy is he.
He plots and schemesBut on must I ride.
Light has diedShadows linger
What shall become of me?
What shall become of me?
