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He is sitting in a corner
A black cloak over his grey hair
A dark shadow over his grey eyes
A grey smoke over his ashen face.
He is but a ranger
He is but a traveller
He is but a highwayman
Look again,
mellon, look again.
The young men is old now
The old man isn’t young anymore.
Look at his face
Look at his eyes
And hear his words
He remembers
what he hasn’t seen.
He remembers,
what he hasn’t heard.
He remember,
what he hasn’t felt.
Ah but look into his eyes
Ah but look into his star
Ah but look into his ring
Grey like the road to Valinor
Brighter than Eärendil
Green like flourishing hope
Close your eyes,
And look again.
Where has he gone?
In his stead,
You can see the faithful captain
You can see the fury of the orcs
You can see the arrow piercing his eye.
He is gone
before his time.
Shadows
Ashes
and a white tree
Another man is standing tall
Grey eyes
Floppy hair
and a mighty sword
He falls
down
and down
A golden gleam in his hands
A small token in his hands
A weakness in his hands.
How stern his father looks
How noble his father looks.
How legendary his father looks.
Behold, Elendil is here.
Deep grey eyes
Long hair
and white beard
And you do recognize them,
The Ring of Barahir
The Elendirmir
and Narsil.
The sword that once faced the greatest Enemy
The sword that once shone with such fury
The sword that once knew the fealty of mankind.
Long gone,
Utterly forgotten
and yet always here.
Two brothers
Two fates
One line.
Elros
No it isn’t Elrond
No it isn’t Elladan nor Elrohir
No it isn’t Eldarion
Elros.
The brother that chose death.
The brother that chose life.
The brother that chose a descent.
So many sons,
and daughters.
So many kings
and captains.
So many heroes
and fallen.
Elros,
The brother who chose mortality and humanity.
Beyond the havens
Beyond the horizon
Beyond the sea
You can glimpse it
You can grasp it
You can dream it
Númenor
The isle of the kings of old
The isle of the queens of old
The isle of the prideful.
Where mankind rose and fell
Where mankind was deceived and corrupted
Where mankind was lost and found
By the sea they were saved
By chance they were saved
By humility they were saved.
Before,
long before the fall.
Remember,
Remember him and her.
The bird that flew to the sailor
The bird that flew to the stars
the bird that flew to hope.
Elwing and Eärendil,
forever reunited.
Your eyes are blinded now by those grey eyes.
Your eyes are blinded now by that enchanting smile.
Your eyes are blinded now by that lulling dance.
She is here,
among
the warriors
the kings
and the captains.
More beautiful than all women.
More resilient than all men.
More alive than all elves.
Lady Lúthien
How she dances in those eyes!
How she sings in those war cries!
How she prays in those sighs!
For her love
For her hope
For her one and true love
Beren.
There in the glint of those dark grey eyes,
you see that spark.
Thingol’s hall
Melian’s girdle
And Menergroth the great.
Days of old
Days of glory
Days of defeat.
They are all here.
The inn is too small to contain it all
The inn is too humble to understand it.
The inn is too young to even feel it.
This is no mere ranger
This is no mere man
This is no mere shadow.
This is the son of kings
This is the son of elves
This is the son of maiar.
The renewer
The elf stone
The last hope.
But you don’t see it,
You are a simple man
You are a lost little man
You are a tipsy funny man.
He smiles at you,
from afar.
He nods at you,
from afar.
He leaves you be,
from afar.
For he has made a promise that
no darkness
no harm
no evil
shall touch you and your kindred.
He is content,
to be hated.
He is content,
to be ignored.
He is content,
to be spit at.
For his deepest hope for you is,
that you remain simple
that you remain happy
that you remain ignorant
of all that brews in Mordor
of all that grows in Mordor
of all that spills from Mordor.
He is
One of the dúnedain
One of the nine
the last of the Númenorians.
Longshanks
Strider
thief.
Foolish little man,
hush.
Melian is drawing in her Girdle
Lúthien is drawing out Melkor
Elwing is drawing in the Silmaril
Foolish little man,
hush.
Eärendil is sailing away,
Elros is planting roots,
Elendil is sailing towards us.
Foolish little man,
hush.
To fall so low,
Isildur was so high.
To fall so cold,
Arvedul was so lost.
To fall so young,
Arathorn was so close.
Foolish little man,
hush.
This is Aragorn,
Son of Arathorn
Father of Eldarion
Founder of Telcontar.
He will long be greeted
He will long be celebrated
He will long be remembered
After your bones will be dissolved
After your name will be dissolved
After your inn will fall into ruin.
He is sitting in a corner,
The last of a line
The first of a line
The son of the Maiar.
Aragorn
Estel
Thorongil
Dúnadan
Strider
Longshanks
Elfstone
Envinyatar
Elessar
Telcontar
Your king and captain.
Your king and protector
Your king and last hope.
More than a legend
More than a myth
Yet, only a human.