The Land of Shadow
Behold the lamentations of the hobbit Frodo:
How endangered she is now, the once peaceful Shire! Entrapped is she who was fair over lands; The quiet land within Middle earth has been made a toiling slave.
Bitterly we weep at night, tears upon our cheeks, With not one to console us from all our Fellowship; Our guide has betrayed us and become our enemy.
Gondor has fled into exile from temptation and cruel slavery; Yet where he lives among the nations he finds no place to rest: All his persecutors come upon him where he is narrowly confined.
The roads to Mt. Doom groan with the footsteps of soldiers, going off to war; All the gateways are full, the orcs shout, the Nazgul cry; we are in bitter grief.
Our foes are uppermost, Our enemies are at ease; the Children of Iluvatar punished for our many sins. Our little ones have gone away, hobbits into the shadow.
How the gold has grown heavy, how the pure gold burdens! The kingly stones lie scattered at the head of every path.
The precious sons of elves and men, worth their weight in valor, how they are regarded as weak, the lesser of older days!
Even the birds find food, the beast shelter; but for hobbits the land has become cruel, like the darkness of the ends of the earth.
Our tongues stick to the roof of our mouth for thirst; we long for food, but there is none to find.
We who once feasted in Rivendell now wander; we who rested in Lorien now sleep on ash heaps.
For the journey of the hobbits of the Shire has been harsher than the punishment of the Elder Days, which were against greater evil, before the Ring was forged!
Middle earth, Middle earth, resist the evil one, cast away this burden at last!