Originaltext
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(Instrumental)
The fair house of Elrond welcomes the tired and weary travellers.
And so, in the shadow of the Misty Mountains, there is peace at last.
Their wounds are healed and their spirits mended.
Days are spent roaming the gentle slopes and forests of the elven land.
Nights are full of song and storytelling, and sitting about the fire with friends.
But there are councils of war -- for the ring must go south.
And nine shall be the number of the company:
nine to match the nine riders;
nine to hold the hope of many;
nine who hold the fate of freedom in their hands.
