In a Garden in Ithilien
There is the little prince. He has been to visit the tallest beech, and he is curled asleep beneath it. Fond child, to sleep in the afternoon sun – but the grandsire tree has screened his bed as if he were one of the flowers of our planting.
I kneel. "Elboron – "
No; I shall not move him hence.
I look up into the spire of leaves that is soaked in faded golden light. "I entreat you, my lord: love these Men with all your strength, for it will never be in their power to love you as do we."