Journey Through Middle-earth

Journey Through Middle-earth

Once when the world was young
Before the wars of our time begun
There was a land like our own
Yet still more different then you could know.
Beginning in the southern end
In far Harad there swept the wind
Forming clouds of billowing sand
That settled on the barren land
Conquered by those fierce and tall
Warriors that answered Sauron's call.
And he, lord of the land most dark
Called Mordor by both fearless and scant of heart
Controlled all from his tower, Barad-dûr
And forged himself a ring in the fires of Orodruin.
Once standing tall and proud against
The might of Mordor, Osgiliath
Was citadel of the stars of night
And center city of the tree of white.
But terror of the dark lord's power
Pushed the seat to Ecthelion's Tower
And Osgiliath was left in ruins
Split through by the river Anduin.
Up the river, past Cair Andras,
As summer starts to turn to frost,
Rohan horses race with the wind
In a sea full of grasses that bend.
North of where the Rauros falls
There is a place where trees tower over all
And their golden branches are part of the sky
For those that gaze with elven eyes.
On the other side a dark forest stands
Mirkwood, Greenwood, an elven land
Dangerous to all but the few
Elvish feet leaving no mark in the dew.
Over the Hithaeglir, mountains of mist
An eagle soars, knowing something is amiss
Deep in Moria's darkened tomb
Where all who enter meet a terrible doom.
But to the east of that shadowed pit
There is a place where a traveler may sit
And have no fear of evil's grasp
Called Rivendell, Imladris, an elven memory of the past.
Now we've come to soft green hills
Whose fertile fields are loyally tilled
By hobbit folk, not known for might
Or killing creatures in any fight.
On the shore the sea breeze blows
And about the towers and ships it goes
Where on the coast bright Mithlond lies
The Grey Havens for the elven-wise
Who longing to leave the wars at last
That plagued Middle-earth for ages past,
Will take a ship from the shore
And leave behind nothing but lore.
West of the west is Valinor fair
Where the Eldar reside and now rare
Is the day a mortal is seen
On shores illuminated by moon-sheen.
But now the world's youth is gone
The elves have finally silenced their song
And no longer do the hobbit children run
Farewell Middle-earth, my dream under the sun.

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