Westu Théoden hál
W ind 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)
|