Frodo

Hope is gone,

Memories fade,

Little is left

But what shall be paid.

The pain is burning

The light, swiftly fading

Like a candle snuffed out,

With little hope of returning.

What is left?

Little I see,

But a gold band,

That has power within thee.

Gollum is my guide,

Untrustworthy is he.

He plots and schemes

But on must I ride.

Light has died

Shadows linger

What shall become of me?

What shall become of me?