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I reached out my hand, Earth’s rivers turned and flowed the other way…
I reached out my hand, my enemies’s blood stopped in their veins…
I reached out my hand; thought and memory flew out of my enemies’ heads like a flock of starlings;
My enemies crumpled like empty sacks.
I came to them out of mists and rain;
I came to them in dreams at midnight;
I came to them in a flock of ravens that filled a northern sky at dawn;
When they thought themselves safe I came to them in a cry that broke the silence of a winter wood…

The rain made a door for me and I went through it;
The stones made a throne for me and I sat upon it;
Three kingdoms were given to me to be mine forever;
Earth was given to me to be mine forever.
The nameless slave wore a silver crown;
The nameless slave was a king in a strange country…

The weapons that my enemies raised against me are venerated in Hell as holy relics;
Plans that my enemies made against me are preserved as holy texts;
Blood that I shed upon ancient battlefields is scraped from the stained earth by Hell’s sacristans and placed in a vessel of silver and ivory.
I gave power to Man, a valuable inheritance
But Men have despised my gift
Power shall be written upon the sky by the rain but they shall not be able to read it;
Power shall be written on the faces of the stony hills but their minds shall not be able to contain it;
In winter the barren trees shall be a black writing but they shall not understand it…

Two powers shall appear in the Valley…
The first shall fear me; the second shall long to behold me;
The first shall be governed by thieves and murderers; the second shall conspire at their own destruction;
The first shall bury their heart in a dark wood beneath the snow, yet still feel its ache;
The second shall see their dearest posession in their enemy’s hand…

The first shall pass their life alone, they shall be their own jailer;
The second shall tread lonely roads, the storm above their head, seeking a dark tower upon a high hillside…

I sit upon a black throne in the shadows but they shall not see me.
The rain shall make a door for me and I shall pass through it;
The stones shall make a throne for me and I shall sit upon it…

The nameless slave shall wear a silver crown
The nameless slave shall be a king in a strange country…

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The Lonesome Road John_Baggins