All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
Many a year ago there dwelt in this land a noble people, but alas, they were driven from it by the dark lord. Since beasts and trolls of unspeakable nature have wandered here.
I, Aragorn son of Arathorn descendant of Isildur have come to slay its evil inhabitants and claim it once more.
I ask again, which of you foul trolls will be first to feel the cold edge of Isildur's Bane? Yes, it has since been reforged in Minas Tirith and is eager to cleave troll flesh once again!
[This message has been edited by Aragorn (edited 02-21-2001).]