Cold
Inspired by the events at Weathertop in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Frodo's point of view.
I feel my fingers growing numb
As the evil blackness comes
My heart it chills with listless fright
A shriek pierces the endless night
My tongue is thick, my eyes are dull
Dark whispers taint the silent lull
They feed me lies of satisfaction
Blind with fear, I choose my action
An instrument of evil, a secret long hidden
A beautiful temptation, a fruit forbidden
But an oppressive burden I have to bear
Now with folly I choose to wear
Naked in the dark I stand
Evil embodied upon my hand
Now I see them, men concealed
With helms of silver and swords of steel
The veil is lifted; they see me now
Beads of sweat form on my brow
I hide this evil from their sight
In this, their malice I ignite
Cold cuts through me like a knife
A venom slowly drawing life
First a moan, then a wail
I scream, but to no avail
My poisoned mind soon departs
As icy tendrils grasp my heart
Though dread grips my cold, dead fingers
The warmth of a hand soon there lingers
March 20, 2007