Haldir, Of the Ancient Race


In fair lands thee once used to dwell,
When tales of old the stars would tell.
The sun and moon would rise up high,
And stars would reflect the night sky.

And ‘neath the silver trees of old,
And dark nights turning harsh and cold,
You would wander fair and proud,
And the skies would relinquish all of their cloud.

Though pity dug ever deeper in your mind,
For who was leaving was of your kind.
Your heart was ever in this land,
But no more could your heart demand.

The leaves in this country never fall,
Until they hear the saddening call.
The call that calls you across the sea,
And on this earth, no more you’ll be.

In the summers these leaves are green,
When of your kind are always seen.
In autumns in this land, these leaves are gold,
A sign to all of the upcoming cold.

Times, they change, not all for the best,
Your mind, and soul was laid to rest.
The wind, it whispered of dark days ahead,
And your people, they never fled.

The sea calls your name and you look to it,
For the bow of the boat to sit.
A golden horizon whispers ‘free’,
On your lonely journey across the sea.

This is what you had thought of when you fell to your knees,
Flashes and memories passed your eyes of your silver trees.
And a sigh of relief, when you realised you were not alone,
When you travelled to the halls of your own.

- Queen of Gondor