Being a Record in Verse of a Meeting between Aragorn and Tom Bombadil which Took Place in the late Third Age of Middle Earth Along the Withywindle's banks, Through the reeds and flowers,While the sunlight softly sifted Into leafy bowers,The ranger and the forester Walked and talked for hours. The ranger spoke of ancient kings Who claimed the gods had lied;Of mortal and immortal folk Who lived and fought and diedIn hopeless wars in drowned lands, Destroyed by lust and pride. A burden he bore in his blood, Passed down from days of yore,To rule the lands, if rule he could Win back for Men once more,And be a better king than those Who lived and died before. The forester, he sang of days Of dancing high and lowAs a new sun with each new dawn Set the whole world aglowAnd under trees and under sky New life began to grow. Then new lives crowded after new, All things changing faster,And Bombadil was greeting them With delighted laughter,But all the lives were all their own Though old Tom was Master. "O, merry is Tom Bombadil!" The ranger smiled and said,"More so than any Man of old With crown upon his head.Let us trade lands, and you be king, And I Master instead!" "Nay, nay," laughed Tom, "although the gift Is such a kingly one!Old Tom's not fit to sit on thrones And say what's to be done;He has no care for rules or realms Or if great wars are won. Tom bears no burdens but his own And his reward you see -A place to sing his merry songs And to love Goldberry.But your reward, ah, who can tell? It is high mystery." Along the Withywindle's banks As waning daylight fledAnd all the evening stars commenced To dancing overhead,The ranger and the forester Wandered back home to bed. Thanks to J. R. R. Tolkien, Lewis Carroll, all you crazy Discord folks and, especially, SignumU!