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The Riddle of Strider
THE RIDDLE OF STRIDER
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not alI 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 shalI be woken,
A light from the shadows shalI spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shalI be king.
THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING
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