Victory is ours! Sauron is defeated!
The Ring has been destroyed! Middle-earth is free!
The Ringbearers are safe.
Aragorn is tending them.
We rejoice at our victory.
And I look for you.
I watched you fight.
You showed courage like any dwarf would’ve shown.
Your homeland would be proud, I’m sure.
But where did you go?
My blood freezes as I see your foot.
For only hobbits grow fur there.
With the help of sixty men we lift
that accursed troll’s body
And reveal your broken one.
I touch your face and hands.
Their coldness seeps through my gloves.
I take you in my arms
And grieve for the life that is lost.
You are covered in the dirt of battle
And the black blood of your foe.
The battlefield was never a place for a hobbit.
You have died showing your valor.
The Fool of a Took.
Why did it have to be you?
No wonder Gandalf chose you.
I rock your limp body.
And I tear my beard.
I look into your still face