Sometimes he became a little
breathless,
in the chaos of the
world.
It would be so easy
to be
forgotten, lost, like so many.
All they saw
as they walked past
was the appearance.
Who had looked beyond that?
One, of course,
but her people saw him as
too young
when his people saw
him as
too old.
What if he began this,
and lost everything?
If he lived not,
he would never see her
again.
Yet if he refused help
that was not looked for,
there would be no world
for the two of them.
If he perished in the game
of lives
would he drop from
history?
But no-
he would gladly give his
life,
he would brave anything
for this quest.
Two gone already,
two of great repute, fallen.
What if-
no.
But what if-
face that when
the time comes.
And no,
it wasn't his fault,
not either time.
No time to dwell
on the if's.
Of course, what quest
have you?
No ring to bear,
no bearer to bear either.
Oh, but what will
Denethor say?
How he loved his
eldest.
And you must find the hobbits,
poor innocents.
Do not let them die
(or worse, but think not
of that)
Ah, perhaps it is
his turn to
die?
The protector who could
not protect.
A dark night in
the Hornburg,
and a bleak one indeed.
The devices of the
enemy, how fell,
and unknown.
The hours of the night are long
when fighting
host upon host.
Numbers innumerable,
one dead replaced by two
more.
Exhausted, so
exhausted.
Yet it approaches, the dawn.
Yet he is old, and maybe
should just give
in.
Oh see, the King shall
ride,
well, perhaps the
protector has found one to
protect again.
Ride forth! Ride for survival
if naught else.
These paths are black,
he knows what
they mean.
But there must be
simpler ways, no?
Can the path
he is to walk
never be easy?
Must be always be
strong?
Yes.
And he can,
he is sure in himself.
But maybe
not, what if he is weak?
Just for once?
No, he cannot be weak
having his darling's standard.
It would do her
dishonor.
That would
not do,
no.
He would be
strong, for love.
True love is only a fantasy,
says his mind,
yet it was never true love.
It was more.
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