In the Bleak Midwinter

In the bleak midwinter it's frosty even here
Where night time holds no horror, as long as stars appear.
Here in Elrond's garden our breath hangs in the air,
Sign that hope yet lingers in the face of dark despair.

So in the Bag End garden, there'll be little that's still green,
Yet in among the holly, red berries can be seen;
And though beneath the bare fruit trees, all seems dull and drear,
I know there will be snowdrops with the turning of the year.

In the Gaffer's kitchen the fire is blazing bright
And cosy lamps are burning to chase away the night,
But I must make this journey, to that land of fearful flame,
Where shadows serve the purpose of the One we will not name.

Still down in The Green Dragon, far away from fear,
There'll be smoke and song and laughter and pots of best Shire beer,
But now that it's in danger, I must forgo the Inn
To travel with my Master and end what we begin.

I'm willing to bear burdens, though I'm not as strong as Bill,
But fear I'll lack for courage when there's orcs or wargs to kill.
I am no mighty wizard with magic in my staff
Nor e'en the best at merriment or making people laugh.

So what can I offer?  Why should I go?
For I am no great hero, with sword or axe or bow.
Yet if there's strength in friendship I might just play a part,
I'll take Lord Elrond's blessing and follow my heart, follow my heart.