Heirloom
Not for all the mithril mined
Would Gimli trade the gift that shines
In yonder crystal goblet base
Nor suffer any dwarf to place
His fingers on that polished glass
That through it light would cease to pass
And glimmer dim to darkened shape
No, Gimli he would keep it safe.
He pondered long, the tale does tell,
How best to honor her so well
Who gifted light to darkened heart
When from her grassy shores did part
The band that held the hope of life
On fearful journey full of strife
That they remember gold midst black
She gave him these to carry back.
Now safe at home his treasure lies
While all around it story sighs
A goblet holding naught but light
In mountain hall but never night
Shall come upon its golden rim
Shaped by hands, by heart, by him
Who once so very long ago . . .
They tell it thus, who tales do know.- Swan of Dol Amroth
