- Isilmë

Swaying and gently rocking
boat travels down the water.
Moving forward light fading
my hand grips Horn shard tighter.

What trickery is at play,
elven light with silver sheen
toward it I make my way,
this pain I feel too keen.

You seem peaceful at last,
how come thee by this place?
There is no oar, no mast,
I reach, try to touch thy face.

The river swirls away
carrying you far from me.
What happened your last day?
I ask for I cannot see.

My tears stream, blocking sight,
it was meant to be mine
this quest that took your fight,
to rid us of the nine.

I will never again hear
the Horn of Vorondil.
When you blew all would cheer,
steeling their nerve and will.

To the sea you shall go,
the river Anduin
will take you on her flow.
My brother, my best friend.