Elrond of Rivendell - A poem about Elrond


His peaceful stride never slows
He looks out to Rivendell as the wind blows
His legs are sturdy, his hands are strong
In the hands of immortality he does belong

His eyes can see things far away
Where rivers flow, and grasses lay
His caring touch is soft against the face
Even if he's from a different race

His voice is deep and soothing to the ear
No darkened cloud could linger here
His hair flows down onto his back
The abundant graces he could never lack

The power of his healing word
Could cure a being once it was heard
The power of his healing stroke
Could fix the heart which once was broke

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