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Olórin

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When all the hope was gone, he came,
Like a beacon of light,
In the shadow of night,
His mighty ancient sword aflame,  

His pointy hat and long beard,
Smoking his pipe weed,
Riding his white steed,
He is loved by all, not feared,  

His humility was exemplary and his grace,
A steward, a passenger,
A wizard, a messenger,
He wasnt a man, nor of elvish race,  

He walked with mighty powers in west,
His mission was high,
When the end was nigh,
Fought the evil in moria, he passed the test,  

Wandering the Middle-Earth, from Ithilien to Bree
Telling his tales, with a pint of ale,
From ered-luin to lonely mountain, of dale,
He cares for hobbits, elves, dwarves and men free,  

Now in the land of Aman, he walks once more,
In company of Nienna, Manwe and Varda,
Faded the power of Narya in Arda,
‘A far green country’, beyond the white shore.

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