Denethor: Can you sing, master hobbit?
Pippin: Yes- Well... I mean, we sing songs for our own people. We have no songs for great halls or... evil times.
Denethor: Then why should your songs be unfit for my halls? Come sing me a song.
Home is behind, the world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow, to the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow, cloud and shade
All shall fade
All shall
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