- Shelob
Snow falls softly in the Old Forest
Sly fox pawprints on white trail
Quiet breeze rustles dry oak leaves
Ancient One, all knowing, dreaming
Treebeard, shepherd of the trees
Misses the Entwives
Where have they gone?

Land, once so fair with flowers
Now, so bleak, without their song
Down his gnarled cheek, slides a tear
Standing alone in Wellinghall
Twilight creeping, darkness near
He listens to the nightowl's call
Where have they gone?

Wind blows colder through branches
Oldest of treees, stonger than stone
Thoughts of friends are very best
Draught of golden ale, drinking
Did they go East or West?
All his long life, thinking
Where have they gone?