Now We Take Our Leave

A window of home
On a dark stormy night
The lash of black branches
A welcoming light.
Call softly, call loud
To the hearthfire so bright.
I am never coming home.

The ponies all ready
All eager and strong.
The dwarves with their axes
Beards plaited and long
No farewell like that
With hearts all aglow
Just slip away quietly
So no-one will know.

But you’re coming with me
My nephew and friend.
To the road’s final turning
The last twilit bend.
To you was the honour
But also the grief
The Ring’s final captives
Now take we our leave.
- Varda