In mortal records small hobbits are
neither remembered much nor mentioned.
But long ago they led all men,
And saved Middle Earth from being fenced in.
Bilbo Baggins was the first of many
To show his hidden courage,
He followed Thorin’s band of dwarves,
Trading feasts for simple porridge.
His doings were so mighty
Both of courage and of heart,
He helped regain what once was lost,
Earning his honor from the start.
But on these things we’ll linger not,
While there is still much else to tell,
Of the ring that Bilbo found,
That tried the earth to fell.
Frodo son of Drogo,
As he was called by all his friends,
Was given the great burden
Of stopping the world’s end.
“Frodo, my lad,” Bilbo told him once,
“The road goes ever on,
You never know where it might lead
When you set out at dawn.”
“To mighty mountains,
Crowned with snow;
Or dragons sleeping soundly,
The road is quite a fickle friend
Each footstep echoes loudly.”
For though Bilbo’s tales
Were said and done,
Frodo’s path was still stretched forth,
His adventures just begun.
The vast and misty mountains were
Yet to be a-conquered,
The mines of Moria ran deep
With goblin tunnels yet unaltered.
A fellowship at Imladris formed,
Promising to stand, unbroken,
Save for a few stumbles along the way
Brought on by Sauron’s token.
Gandalf died, guarding the pass
From the Balrog decked in fire,
His absence dealt a fearsome blow,
Filling all who witnessed it with ire.
Boromir of Gondor was next to fall,
From arrows sharp and deep.
He died in valor in the end,
Buying time for hobbits’ feet.
Then the fellowship was split
To what end no one knew,
Frodo and Sam journeyed on,
while the trio chased after two.
To Be Continued in Part II…