Disclaimer: it's Tolkien's.
Eowyn and the Wraith Lord
Beneath his hood the pale eyes gleam,
And the maid stands before him, Eowyn Elf-sheen,
Shield in hand, sword raised,
She defies the demon with valour, un-phased.
About them soldiers fall and fight,
He swings his mace with all his might,
To her knees she falls, her arm is broken,
By her side, her shield lays cloven.
But she is not defeated, even so,
For her mind is set to slay this foe,
'Ere she departs on her next quest,
To seek the halls of her long rest.
Again he raises his mace to slaughter,
She gathers her nerve, Eomund's daughter,
Gazing into the demons eyes,
Therein is held her own demise,
But the Halfling comes to her aid,
With the sword Numenorean's made,
Piercing the sinews of his shadowy knee,
That Sauron made of sorcery.
Now his stroke lands wide,
She takes the sword from her side,
Standing with her last strength,
She drives the sword, all of its length,
Into his shadowy flesh,
Woven of enchantment's mesh.
On the wind his soul is sped,
She has slain the King of the Un-dead.
About her, the scene is dire,
She lies in a pool of blood and mire,
But fear not, for the Lady has found what she sought,
It was dearly wished for, but dearly bought.
***
That wasn't too bad…was it?