I gaze around at the faces here,
Not one of them shows fear.

Aragorn, with his reforged sword,
Boromir, looking slightly bored.
And Legolas, it was with his bow he swore he’d protect me.
‘But I do not know the way’ my only plea.

And the sturdy Dwarf, Gimli,
I would say his arrival was timely.

Do I deserve their protection?
Alas! that I do not have time for reflection.
The grimness of this task set before me,
I just want to run away, home to the shire, oh, to flee!

I hear the lack of mirth in their chuckles,
as they check the flasks, and tighten the buckles.
“Don’t you know you’re going to the cracks of Mount Doom?”
The lull before the impending boom.

The fate of middle earth,
has too wide a girth,
for a Hobbit of my measure.
In this I take no pleasure.

Now we start,
From Lothlorien, we do depart.
A kiss from Lady Galadriel,
is all that urges me to compel.
The grimness of this task sets in,
and I must set down my pen.