The Dawn of the Fourth Age
By Leah Sternenberg
From the depths of dark despair
A stench of death hung heavy in the air
In the abyss of unfathomable worry
I travel on across this hopeless path
One with blackened gates and merciless wrath
The road not traveled, it is a lie
The shrouded darkness looming nigh
For many times these weathered gates
though beaten with age
Had been traveled vengeful with a blackened heart
In the flames where forged came rage.
The winding road yet traveled I have grown to tire
filling my heart, with tongues of fire
The scorching embers of light shall wither
The gates, an inscription faded, a whisper
Come hither I did with dread no doubt would prevail In the dark tower
Upon my chest; the orc's chainmail
The battered armor of the enemy placed upon my breast
stained and engraved with the enemy's crest.
The faded cloak I bore would tatter
Compared with my destiny little would matter
Seeps the light on crumbling towers
The crack of dawn the dark devours
Through the shrouded veil of dusk
my feet heavy with anticipating dread
The musty air hung upon my head
To the Mountain of doom I bear a burden
To the ancient forges of the ring
The road not yet trodden
Emblazoned with blackness, fiery death
The scorching flames will lick the circlet of pure desire
Though one shall be lost in the embers of the fire
The darkness shall be destroyed
Again shall the Elven songs be sung
Gaily and happily, death claiming none
Darkness, nevermore
The fourth age has begun