This tale was written by a he;
One who knew the folk of old,
Of a land that was near no sea,
And of how heat turned to cold.

A small hole dug in a hill
And a Journeyer to unknown,
Very short with much will
The seed of adventure was sown.

From under hill to over
With thirteen stone men,
Searching in mountains for cover,
They found the goblins' den.

Alone, the Journeyer became,
His stones escaped and gone;
A solitary riddling game;
His life is what he won.

One unknown ring of power,
Hidden when next he saw his friends,
And from spiders did they cower
While Journeyer and ring did defend.

Imprisoned in halls of stone,
Freeing the stones he snuck
The Journeyer, himself not alone
In barrels down a river of luck.

The home taken by the dragon,
They finally did see;
And with the help of a Baggins,
Dwarves snuck inside with a key

But angry did they make him,
The thief that stole their home
Lake Town: burned and shaken
A lone black arrow stood alone.

The shot was straight and true
Although the people rose in anger,
For war to them was new;
Against death they made their wager.

Elves emerged from Mirkwood,
Dwarves from the Iron Hills,
Eagles from their high nest brood,
Against goblins; many they killed.

The Journeyer with stone men fought
'Till the corpses filled the ground
The Battle of Five Armies wrought
Death and a King's grave mound.

A coat of silver; gems, and tears
For the death of two young stones,
Now the desolation of Lake Town leers
At the dragon and his rotting bones.

But the stone of the heir was found,
A kingdom and a home were reclaimed,
The Journeyer, homeward was bound
And the world of all was saved.

On and on the journey goes,
Where it stops, no one knows
For you and me the path we see
Is right but hard and brave we must be.
Our light shines through
For our hearts are true,
And we go on
'Till we are gone.
For on and on the journey goes,
And where it stops, soon we will know.