White clouds, scudding swift, 'cross a cobalt blue sky.
He sits 'neath an oak, book on knee.
Dwarves, dragons and elves float before his minds eye.
"Why does nothing strange happen to me?"
Grey clouds float, serene, 'cross a late autumn sky.
He stands on a balcony, lone.
Dark figures and pain in his memory lie.
"Now I'm safe. Leave it here and go home."
White sky, filled with mem'ry of late fallen snow
Rolls, unseen, to the Ringbearers' eye.
Deep in cavern, lead on by a staff's eerie glow.
"In this place will we battle and die?"
Bright stars glow, forlorn, in nights indigo throne.
He sits, once again, 'neath a tree.
Friend is dead. Here's the test. Can he do this alone?
"And this quest comes, at last, down to me."
Grey sky, still and sullen. By river he stands.
Tears fall, soft, from his shimmering eye.
Gandalf's' voice, warm and sure. Ring lies, cold, in his hand.
"I will go.
I will try.
Will I die?"