Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings,
I do not own that many things,
I do not own an elf or tree,
These things that were not meant for me,
I do not own them now, I did not own them then,
Not now, not then not ever again,
I do not own the words I say,
I do not own that much this day,
I do not own my house,
I do not own a mouse,
I do not own Lord of the Rings,
I do not own the rights to anything.

Summary: A poem about a man, I don't know who, maybe Theoden or Aragorn, contemplating death.

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What lies beyond the starlight?
What waits beyond the night?
What waits for those whose flame is gone?
What is left when all is done?

The black of night, the end of life,
He falls in battle on end of knife.
The light fades into the darkened sky,
He leaves all those who now ask why?

The mighty warrior, the king of men,
Who battles with the sword not pen,
Who fall to blade in enemies' hand,
And rests now on the bloodied land,

What lies beyond the starlight,
And what waits beyond the night,
Is hidden to all who now live,
Until death he does now freely give.

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