Excerpt ☆☆☆☆
Frodo felt Bilbo move impatiently beside him, clearly upsetting his friend.
Suddenly, Bilbo stood up and blurted out:
Real gold may not shine,
The prodigal son may not be lost;
Old and not withered,
Deep roots are buried without fear of severe frost.
The heat awakens in the cold ash,
The light jumps in the shadows;
The Qingfeng Broken Blade will be reforged,
The uncrowned one returns as king.
Aragon smiled at him and turned again to face Polomer.
"As far as I'm concerned, I forgive you for your doubts." He said, "In the halls of Denisor stands the majestic statues of Elandir and Ishirdu, and I have little resemblance to them.
I am only the heir of Ishirdu, not Ishildu himself. I have lived a long time, and life is hard. The distance from here to Gondor is insignificant compared to the distance I have traveled.
I have crossed mountains and mountains, crossed many rivers and rivers, traveled through countless plains and wildernesses, and even visited the distant Rune and Harard, where even celestial phenomena are strange.
But my homeland, my only home, is in the north. The descendants of Vilandil have always lived here, from father to son, from generation to generation, and the bloodline has never been broken.
Our days are no longer glorious, and the population is withering away, but this sword will always have new heirs to preserve and pass on from generation to generation.
"Polomir, I have to say this to you at last: we are a lonely people, nomads and hunters in the wilderness—but we are always hunting the minions of the great enemy, and their tracks are everywhere, not just in Mordor.
"Polomer, if Gondor is a strong and reliable tower, then we have been playing another role. There are many evil things that your iron walls and swords have never encountered.
You know very little about areas beyond your borders. You mentioned peace and freedom, but if it weren't for us, wouldn't the North know what they are? I am afraid that they will be destroyed by fear long ago.
But when the dark creatures move out of the desolate mountains, and sneak up from the woods that do not see the light of day, they are all scattered before us.
If the Dunedins sit idly by, or go all the way to the grave, which road will anyone dare to take? Those quiet areas and simple homes, where will you still enjoy safety at night?
And we get less gratitude than you do. The travelers frowned at us, and the villager gave us some contemptuous nicknames.
There was a fat man who called me a 'big stride', but if we hadn't been guarding the town where he lived day and night, the enemies who were less than a day away from him would have scared him to death or ravaged the town to the ground.
But we will not give up the guardianship. If simple people are carefree, they will continue to be simple, and we must secretly protect them from living in such simplicity. ”
Time passes, warblers fly grass, this has always been the mission of my clan.