- Lothithil

This bough beneath my booted feet
Sways with the wind that seethes
Through the firs and over the hills
Ice on its breath
I feel a chill, but it comes not from the north
Deep in my bones an unsettling frost
From loss of kin and direction
Where have they gone?

My people have left, crossing the mountians
Following the Three Kings
The Bright Rider bid them come
To fair lands made for them
But not all heeded this summons

I am torn between the land where I awoke
And the sweet call of the West
Kinsmen I have lost, hiding in the woods
Some captured by the Dark Rider
Twisted into terror

I do not know the road they took
The mountains rise like a fence of stone
And yet I cannot remain here, there is no one
And I have never been alone before