Aragorn Waits

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Arwen.
Arwen.
Arwen Undomniel.
Long years have passed;
I look far younger than I feel.
I feel cold, hard like leather,
or a stone worn down in a mountain stream.

How many nights have I laid awake in the wind?
These cloudy nights are unbearable,
and worse is seeing your star hovering above me
far beyond my reach, my embrace, my fingers.

Am I the hope my mother gave to the Dunedain?
Is there a kingdom prepared for me?
Do I have to make it myself?
I am a wanderer, not a warrior, Arwen--
a lonesome lover.
But your father says a king to come,
for you are to be no less than queen.

Arwen, you love a mortal wretch,
but love me, Wonderful, love me.
Love on, my Light, for I cannot face the darkness.
Arwen.
Arwen.
Arwen Undomniel.

I promise you, you will have your throne
beyond these evil days.
And, far away from cold winds and
harsh thoughts and loneliness,
I will have a bed of softest silk with you.

Oh, that bed is worth fighting for!
Or if I do not have the strength to raise a sword,
that bed, our bed, is worth taking my step.



Here is Tolkien's poem:

All That is Gold Does Not Glitter

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.