Sometimes when I walk alone
in a starry night in the fall.
I will feel an urge to roam,
and struggle with a wild call.
I feel old, but somehow young,
Courageous but somewhat untried.
Like I could search for the rising sun,
but never truly reach it’s light.
Elven songs and fire glow
Hobbit hills and mountain snow
There are many places one can go,
where do I belong? I will never know.
Something holds me to my home,
something wills me to leave it.
There is a strong part that wants to roam
and a weak one that refuses to heed it.
I love this land, I love my home.
Little rivers, hills and stars.
But my heart also yearns for the unknown
in brave new lands away and afar.
Mortal wars and Dwarven gold
Southern heat and Northern cold
Hermits weak and wanderers bold
which is the place that I should hold?
Did Bilbo ever feel this torn?
Pulled to and fro between two fates?
Sometimes alone I feel so worn,
should I go or should I stay?
Someday I will follow him
In the wilds my heart is set.
Someday we will meet again,
but another day, not quite yet.
Oh the agony of the fall.
Dwarves so strong and Elves so tall.
Men so mighty, hobbits so small.
How can my heart be with them all?