Ride high upon your steed, O fair one,
Sword in hand,
Quiver at back.
Hasten not, for there is evil growing to the East.
Lost spirits of Mordor creep towards the West.
The souls of men shall be torn apart, never to be whole again.
Evil run in their blood, through their minds.
No longer are they human but shadows among us,
shadows form Mordor.
Cries can be heard from the cracks of doom, though the Dark Lord as fallen,
evil has not seen it's end and for which will never, evil has no end.
O fair one, can you destroy what you cannot see?
For what can't be touched will meat no defeat.