Williams Timmy Last Surprise

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that an endless river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air about him, and it drenched and drowned him. Swiftly he sank under its shining weight into a deep realm of sleep.There he wandered long in a dream turned into running water, and then suddenly into a voice. It seemed to be the voice of Bilbo chanting verses. Faint at first and then clearer ran the words.Eärendil was a marinerthat tarried in Arvernien;he built a boat of timber felledin Nimbrethil to journey in;her sails he wove of silver fair,of silver were her lanterns made,her prow a swan,and light upon her banners laid. Beneath the Moon and under starhe wandered far from northern strands,bewildered on enchanted waysbeyond the days of mortal lands.From gnashing of the Narrow Icewhere shadow lies on frozen hills,from nether heats and burning wastehe turned in haste, and roving stillon starless waters far astrayat last he came to Night of Naught,and passed, and never sight he sawof shining shore nor light he sought.The winds of wrath came driving him,and blindly in the foam he fled
In panoply of ancient kings,in chain‚d rings he armoured him;his shining shield was scored with runesto ward all wounds and harm from him;his bow was made of dragon-horn,his arrows shorn of ebony,of silver was his habergeon,his scabbard of chalcedony;his sword of steel was valiant,of adamant his helmet tall,an eagle-plume upon his crest,upon his breast an emerald.