Out of dark, out of doubt, to a fair days morn
Out of tales of the North their hope is reborn
They ride to the West in numbers so vast
The ground aches and shudders as they ride past
To Gondor they rode, to the West with the Dawn
Their banners awave, their swords all are drawn
Circled by siege, enmeshed by their foes
Yet only the first of mortal man's woes
For look, it is he, before whom no one can stand:
The Witch king of Fornost, the king of the damned
A half-life, a wraith, neither living nor dead
Not by man's hand that his blood shall be shed
Rank upon rank, they pass slowly him by
This foul servant of Sauron that cannot die
No fear had he of either death nor pain
In rashness he thought to see neither again
Devouring hope with a deadening despair
An insufferable dread no man can bear
The king now has fallen, the Nazgul holds sway
Nothing can come between Death and his prey
Yet from the ashes one rises, faithful and last
Who will sell his life dearly to stop this repast
Purposefully stepping he separates them
"Death will come swiftly if you should touch him."
The chill of his laughter more cruel than his sword
He spoke again the words of the mighty Elf Lord
"Fool!" He cried, "For how can this be?
You are but a man, and none can kill me!
Stand aside!" He cried, with contempt and disdain
"Stand aside now or you too shall be slain!"
Many a warrior had gone to his death
Feeling the chill of the Nazgul's black breath
As a winged bolt of thunder felled from the sky
Came the Nazgul the Elf Lord dared not defy
Yet the soldier stood firm and did not give way
Her voice was clear, her laughter was fey
Lady of Rohan, a daughter of kings
By womanhood bound as a caged bird that sings
Eowyn-daughter who could not remain
To watch all she loved ride off to be slain
Forsaking her duty to kinsman and clan
Now before him she laughs "I am no man."
She removes the helm, her tresses unbound
The beast's head falls cloven onto the ground
No fair wrought grace, no immortal splendor
Just shield-maiden, a woman, Rohan's daughter
A sword in her hand, her strong limbs lithesome
"Death will come swiftly if you should touch him."
Their hope came not by the Paths of the Dead
In Corsairs black ships, with banners of red
As the King of the West and the King of the Plains
Join together their swords in battle again
For amid endless waves of fey horses and soldiers
Sat one with the weight of the world on her shoulders
AN: I wrote this 11 years ago in high school and re-discovered it in the depths of my hard drive. It's...not too bad, I suppose. Although 16 year-old me had yet to discover what meter was. Ah, well!