There's a bard in the city, singing the tales of long ago and far away in a voice elven fair. There's a bard in the city, who sometimes sings of things much more recent. There's an elven bard who most of Middle-earth thinks is dead, who sits in the park and sings of Frodo the Nine-Fingered, and Samwise the Brave.

Maglor looks up when he hears an approach and his eyes widen, hands striking a welcome chord on his harp and he rises to bow. Sam does not know him - but all of Middle-earth knows Sam.