This is a small part I wrote on The Lay of The Two Towers, a narrative poem relaying the events of The Two Towers in poetry.


The hunters now had found their news;
The orcs they sought had paid their dues,
For by the Mark their end they had found,
But to them two hobbits yet were bound.

Now still to their quest the three had kept,
If hope was gone, they yet hadn't wept.
Over the plains, on their gift horses,
Over the mark, not counting their losses.

Arriving on scene, dismayed and chilled,
The orcs were all dead, in the night been killed.
Yet no hobbits were there, and hope, it fell
Out of their hearts: this couldn't bode well.

But, wait! What's this! "A hobbit lay here,
"And the other," 'twas clear. Tracks lay bare
The trail in the light; all hope wasn't gone,
Again with the hunt the three went on.

"The tracks lead away from the battle!"
What joy, what promise there to tell.
But then, a check, once more 'fore them:
"Into Fangorn Forest," the dark tree rim.

Alas, "What madness drew them in there?"
Madness, indeed: the trees tall and bare.
Forbidding and angry, the forest stood tall,
And only the desperate would there go at all.