- Isilmë

When at the beginning they met,
awe was first, then wonder.
Upon a quest he had been sent,
to all, no more than a stranger.

Through trials and goodwill,
they learned to trust in his valour.
Over mountains and under hill,
but for only one goal did he labour.

In Lothlorien, the golden woods,
for a moment of peace did he look.
None was to be found and never would,
one little ring...had placed it's hook.

To have him see the wisdom,
was his only reason to follow.
Change direction and save a kingdom,
but no, the ring had worked it's treason.

As he stuggled to contain the guilt,
dark enemy pored across the field.
Once again taking his sword by the hilt,
but realizing he had not his shield.

In defence of the little ones did he fly,
not to redeem himself, only as a friend.
Try as he might, they kept at him until he lie,
under tree, deathly wounds unable to mend.

Upon the mighty Horn did he blow,
alerting all to the danger.
But they arrived to only sorrow,
gone now, no longer a stranger.