Elmandir's Records

Far was a rider bore by a horse whose
head was held high
and beauty and grace could lay nowhere but nigh
for its mane flowed like a silver stream
and drawn to it were the waning moon's beams
the wind would be running a bow making the tree,
kneel as a minion before its king
the rider as proud and as filled with grace
his beard white as snow
high above his head held a staff faintest of glimmers it glowed
the weariness of many years written across his face
the horse on swift legs bore him far and wide
many a place to go and thing to be accomplished
yet nothing would please him more to ride
to visit the hobbit who had bore the burden of Middle Earth