Night in Ithilien

Bruised and dusty
Only a little blood spilt
Back we go to war

Why did I let him go?
The little one and that
Which all the world desires
Stronger than love, stronger than hate

Warriors salute me; they
Would follow me
Into the mouth of danger
Where honour lives
They say.

What honour in your danger,
Boromir? Only a horn blowing
On the night-wind, a dream
Flowing down a dark river
Never coming back.

I found you in the wilderness
The answer to all the riddles
A little stranger in an Elven cloak
Too tired to stand
I lifted you up,
My brother's doom

Before morning
I will lead you into the wilds
And let you go,
Like a bird into the storm.
Only a little bruised,
No blood spilt.

- Varda