Many things this elf has seen
The Moon's first gleam, the Leaf's first green
But, all the places I have been,
I've yet to meet the likes of him
A Dwarf in height, but not by sight!
His will not to be measured by his might
Though near to death, he still does fight
See through him the Holy, shining light!
Where he must fare, I would he not go there,
Into the Dark Lord's polluted lair,
Where his flesh the wind and rocks will tear;
Worn to weariness by what he must bear.
He, I would save, the horrors I would brave
And his darkness with my own hand stave.
Give him my hand to hold through that dark cave
And then sail with him on the silver-crested wave.