Once upon a winter bleak,
When cold encompassed strong and weak,
A darkness hung o’er the land,
For Mordor stretched its evil hand.
In Suaron’s visage, the evil gaze,
The realm held captive for endless days,
In caves of black and fields of green,
A ray of hope could not be seen.

Night of shadow!
Shadow of night!
Raging on with all its might!

On this night of grizzly fate,
Two hobbits walked a torrid rate,
Held captive by their orcish foes,
Their bodies hurt down to their toes.

Through Rohan fields, they marched their way,
Onward, forever, and a day,
The orcs command with whip and chain,
Merry and Pippin, weathered the pain.

Night of pain!
Pain of night!
Raging on with all its might!

There on the plain they came to see,
The single, solit’ry, form of a tree,
Both strange and foreign, it did not belong,
The orcs could not place it, something was wrong.

A towering tree, with needles that prick,
Shaped like a cone, at the base more thick,
So strange was its presence, out there in the field,
No other of its kind, would Rohan’s ground yield.

Night of fate!
Fateful night!
Raging on with all its might!

Grishnak, orc leader, came forth to survey,
The rest stood in fear of an omen so fey,
He scratched his noggin, he huffed and he hissed,
Surely it’s a sign, one not to be missed.

“Bring the prisoners!” he said with a sneer,
Merry and Pippin were soon both brought near,
“What could this mean? This tree all alone?
Should we smash it and crush it like bone?”

Night of black!
Black of night!
Raging on with all its might!

Merry was stunned, he then said at length,
“Not everything should be put down with strength.
To quote my old gaffer, that old Brandybuck,
‘Rejoice at lone trees, they can only bring luck!’”

At that he removed, with effort and care,
The brooch that held his Elf cape so fair.
He placed it aloft on a limb hanging low,
For what exact purpose, he did not know.

Night of wonder!
Wonder of night!
Raging on with all its might!

The brooch nestled in and it started to shine,
The tree went in motion, almost serpentine.
It shook off the cold, it was warmly alive,
And fireflies came to it, as if to a hive.

Their light illuminated, all could see now,
The wondrous gifts that were these boughs.
Merry stood back and knew he’d done right,
Even the orcs had shed all their fright.

Night of lights!
Lights of night!
Raging on with all their might!

Pippin stepped forth, and did just like Merry,
Placing on high, the brooch he did carry.
Even Grishnak, and Ugluk, and Snaga so frail,
Adorned it with rings pulled off from their mail.

They all stood in awe, their jaws hanging out,
They unchained the hobbits, let them walk about.
All were filled with a kindness and glee,
For the orcs it was strange, quite extr’ordinary.

Night of awe!
Awesome night!
Raging on with all its might!

Water-flasks and rations were then passed around,
A suitable feast, as they sat on the ground,
Stories were shared by Hobbits, Orcs alike,
A welcome diversion from their arduous hike.

Their memories were charged, of old times gone by,
Happier days, when troubles weren’t high.
Hobbits painted visions of pipesmoke and holes,
Orcs told tales of goblins and gnolls.

Night of hope!
Hope of night!
Raging on with all its might!

What magic was there, contained in those branches,
To make enemies drop swords, axes, and lances.
It seemed all the world, both evil and good,
Would forget all their cares in the field this tree stood.

Or perhaps this one night was a blessed event,
The tree just a symbol for what’s heaven sent.
Pippin’s mouth was full, but he cried out in spite:
“Merry, Grisnash, Ev’ryone! To all a good night!”