I sat on the pony,

My arm numb, but cold.

A haze in my eyes,

And I could not walk on.

Pippin, Sam,

Merry, and Strider,

Had to carry my things,

While I was the rider.

Of the donkey that once

Belonged to Bill Ferny,

That in Bree we then bought

Who was starved, beaten, and dirty.

Why did I put it on?

Give in to its evil will?

For that was why they saw me,

And why I had this chill.

Why did I retaliate,

Draw my sword and stand?

I didn’t know that I was no match

For the mighty Ring Wraiths’ wrath.

And so I paid for my choice,

And now cannot use my hand.

I can only see well in the night,

And fear I’m becoming one of them.

For in the light,

I only see ghostly shapes,

I cannot see the faces of my friends,

Or their capes.

But in the dark,

Beneath the shadows I can

See many things,

Better than through melted sand.

Why did I get angry,

And listen to their commands?

To stay still, and even though I was affraid,

I no more ran.

Though I wanted to,

I would not.

Then Gandalf came,

Along with Elrond.

The Wraiths horses

jumped into the river,

From the glowing elves,

And their torches of fire.

Then my horse bolted too,

And nocked me to the floor.

And then after that,

I remembered no more.

I laid on the ground,

Next to the horse from whom I’d dropped

Until finally,

The chill stopped.