choices

Olorin hoped a pipe might help him think;
no memory could guide him at this fork.
Some fragrant smoke might purge the evil stink
that couldn't be attributed to orcs.
The caves of trolls had their unwholesome smell
but something darker stings the wizard's sense;
What Pippin wakened in the guardroom's well
predates the sun, and moon, and lands, and Ents.
The mithril shirt that stopped a orc-lord's lance
that might have drilled a boar, or buffalo
against a balrog wouldn't stand a chance;
a maia--once gone bad's--an awful foe.
The friend and guide to dwarf, man, hobbit, elf
shows no regard for safeguarding himself.