Burrial song of Théoden

Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day´s rising

he rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.

Hope he rekindled , and in hope ended;

over death, over dread, over doom lifte

out of loss, out of life, unto long glory.

The road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

Lament for Théoden

From dark Dunharrow in the dim morning with thane and captain rode Thengel´s son:
to Edoras he came, the ancient halls of the Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded;
golden timbers were in gloom mantled.
Farwell he bade to his free people, hearth and high-seat, and the hallowed places.
Forth rode the king, fear behind him, fate before him. Fealty kept he; oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them.
Forth rode Théoden.
Five nights and days east and onward rode the Eorlingas through Folde and Fenmarch and the Firienwood, six thousand spears to Sunlending, Mundburg the mighty under Mindolluin,
Sea-kings` city in the South-kingdom foe-beleaguered, fire-encircled. Doom drove them on.
Darkness took them, horse and horseman;
hoofbeats afar sank into silence:
so the song tell us.

Gollums song / riddle..

Alive whithout breath;
as cold as death;
never thirsting, ever drinking;
clad in mail, never clinking.
Drowns on dry land,
thinks an island is a mountain;
thinks a fountain is a puff of air.
So sleek, so fair!
What a joy to meet!
We only wish to catch a fish,
so juicy-sweet!