A Song of Joy - Eluchil continues his irregular serries of poems
No horrors faze though cities raze the lords of whom I sing.
There is a sight of darkest night in ancient tales of lore,
But in comes light with all its might and marches on to war.
Now lift the sword 'gaint the Dark Lord and curse his vile name.
Then seek the horde and then turn toward the land from which you came.
If elven thought is of well wrought things of beauty bright,
Then Hobbits taught the Wise that naught is better than food cooked right.