Slightly inspired by Coleridge's Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner; that is of
course a much longer poem - but written as a ballad as well...
A well-known stranger was he
And Strider was his name
No one knew where he was going
Nor from whence he came
Strange-looking, weather-beaten
He sat in shadows near the wall
No one spoke a word to him
But he listened to them all
Long legs stretched in front of him
His boots did fit him well
There were worn and muddy
As if they would have much to tell
Drawn close about him was his cloak
In spite of the heat of the room
His face was hidden by his hood
But his eyes were gleaming in the gloom
When questioned he would say
“There is too much that I know
Of wild and wary things
Of danger, dark and shadow”
But there was no shadow in him
Looking foul and feeling fair
Living a life of wandering wisdom
In preparing to prepare
For not all those who wander are lost
His fame will only spread out wider
Until his face is loved by many
And he is no longer known as Strider.
Directly inspired by Tolkien's words in the chapters
"At the Sign of the Prancing Pony" and "Strider" from "The Fellowship of the Ring".
