The hobbits gazed at Strider. It seemed that he was learned in old lore, as well as in the ways of the wild. 'Who was Gil-galad?' asked Merry; but Strider did not answer, and seemed to be lost in thought. Suddenly a low voice murmured:
Ereinion means a scion of kings
But loremasters weep when the harpers all sing
The last in the line of Finwean descent
That fair family tree is now sadly spent
His lance was so long, and his spear was so keen
To complete his family, all he lacked was a queen
But before he could wed, he had to forsake her
Finellach left Lindon to seek out his maker
He brought Aeglos with him wherever he went
Enemies unnumbered to Nienna were sent
Now they’re all gone, so no one can know
That it only happened ‘cause of Artanaro
Finrod walks with pops, or that’s what they say
But Rodnor’s tale has gone quite astray
Where is his sire? That, no one can tell
The elf-lord was silent too long when he fell
Long Ages ago he searched for his dad
He rode far away, that King Gil-galad
But Dagorlad’s hardly a walk in the park
So he’s lost in Mordor, where it’s awfully dark
The others turned in amazement, for the voice was Sam's.
'Don't stop!' said Merry.
Sam closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and continued:
If it hadn’t been for Artanaro
I'd have sailed a long time ago
Where did you come from, where did you go?
Who was your father, Artanaro?
'That's all I know,' stammered Sam, blushing. 'I learned it from Mr. Bilbo when I was a lad. He used to tell me tales like that, knowing how I was always one for hearing about Elves. It was Mr. Bilbo as taught me my letters. He was mighty book-learned was dear old Mr. Bilbo. And he wrote poetry. He wrote what I have just said.'
'Indeed I have never heard anything like it,' said Strider.