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Poetic Arda  by Mirach

Westu Théoden hál

Wind blew cold in the horse's mane
East ran the horses through the plain
Stalwart rode there a faithful king
Through shadow of a dreadful wing
Unafraid when blood fell like rain

Through a dark morning without dawn
He led his riders, now they're gone
Eorl's sons in their helmets tall
Oath bound them to heed Gondor's call
Dark was the morning, red the day
Ere evening came, the king dead lay
Now to the bright halls leads his way

Hail Théoden, o mighty king
A song of glory as swords ring
Let now the riders sing!

An acrotic poem written for the Tolkien Mailing Competition (TLV)

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