While I may have taken a few liberties with the number of stanzas for this Found Poem, it is otherwise appropriate.
Passages where I "found" my poem are taken from throughout the LOTR trilogy, in an attempt to show Aragorn's progression from obscurity to reknown, and from doubt to hope.
OUT OF DOUBT TO HOPE'S END
Lean face, weather-stained cloak --
What have you to do with Minas Tirith?
Descended through many fathers from Isildur Elendil's son,
Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chief of the Dunedain,
Few are now left of that folk.
Here is the Sword that was Broken!
The Sword of Elendil a help beyond hope,
If such could return out of the shadow;
If hand that wields inherited not heirloom only
But the sinews of the Kings of Men.
Who can tell? said Aragorn. Who can tell?
You do not yet know what to do.
Boats may make journey less toilsome,
Yet they will not give counsel.
Gift of boats comforted, no need to decide.
Long they debated, Aragorn divided in mind.
His plan? To go with Boromir, deliver Gondor;
But the burden of Gandalf laid on him --
He could not forsake the Ring.
I go alone, if need be, said Boromir.
Proud and erect, dark hair blowing:
A king returning from exile to his land.
Isildur's heir has naught to dread!
Then light of eyes faded, spoke to himself.
How my heart yearns! Whither shall I go?
Would that Gandalf were here! My heart yearns
For Minas Anor, the walls of my city!
Whither now shall I go?
Boromir did not speak again.
He knelt, bent with weeping, clasping Boromir's hand.
Alas! A bitter end, the Company in ruin.
It is I that have failed -- vain Gandalf's trust!
What shall I do now? All gone amiss!
What is to be done now?
May I make right choice, change evil fate.
The Company has played its part.
Come! Who are you? Whom do you serve?
Vision of majesty of the kings of stone,
White flame on brows like shining crown.
I serve no man -- Aragorn son of Arathorn,
Elessar, Elfstone, Dunadan, heir of Isildur of Gondor.
Here is Sword Broken and forged again!
Will you aid me or thwart -- choose swiftly!
Dreams and legends spring to life --
What brings you? What doom do you bring?
The doom of choice.
Strider, or I'm still asleep!
They knew him, changed as he was,
High, glad of face, kingly lord of Men.
A long way from Bree, is it not?
You did not like the look of me.
A long way for us all!
Revealed now for the first time,
Tall as the sea-kings, ancient of days
In flower of manhood; wisdom upon brow,
Healing in his hands, light about him.
In this place I will abide
Unto the ending of the world.
Behold the King!