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PART I
The ancient Mithrandir meeteth three hobbits bidden to a birthday party,
and detaineth one.
IT is the ancient Mithrandir,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The Party-field gate is opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'
He holds him with his skinny hand,
'There is a ring,' quoth he.
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
The Party-Guest is spell-bound by the eye of the old wandering wizard, and
constrained to hear his tale.
He holds him with his glittering eye—
The Party-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
Mithrandir hath his will.