Disclaimer – Not owning anything… So unfair… But I do have almost £400 worth of Lord of the Rings merchandise! But you are not having that , my friends… ^_^

A/N -  Well, another poem! What can I say, I'm on a poem spree… Oh, oh, oh, anyone seen Return of the King yet? Come on, who cried? Own up! I did… Anyway, back to the poem – thanks to Becka, who read this through for me! ^_~ Love ya babe!

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At Last

So we come to it at last;

War has spilled over land and sea,

The smell of death suffocating the air,

As I leave my home and life to be.

Marching, marching, we come to the fields;

The bloody, scarlet stained golden fields,

Where I place my fate in the hands,

Of Lords and Captains of far away lands.

I feel my sword longing to dance from my grip;

To seize the battle, and claim their lives;

I feel my armour, weighing heavily on my chest,

Come at last to the purpose for which it was devised.

Yet no soldier am I; no warrior gallant and brave,

No royal blood and noble in my veins flows,

And not in strong might castles do I dwell,

Where my lands will put on spectacular shows.

But a humble farmer be I only,

A worker of lands, a tiller of soils;

Content with my cottage in the hillside,

And my family and loved ones within a call.

Maybe I had dreamed of seeing far off lands;

Of gazing in wonder at works of ancient hands;

Of staring in awe at the Lords and Kings of Men;

And of returning to my home, safe and well again.

But my dreams and my reality are two different worlds apart,

As I march down to the scarlet, golden fields.

Led by Lords and Kings, and fighting by works of wonder,

Battling for what we all desire as we're defended by out shields.

For hope, for love, for honour and light,

I walk on no towards ever night,

I leave my wife with her golden hair,

I leave my children, whose laughter fair

I shall carry ever in my mind and heart,

As I march down to alien worlds afar.

Will I return to my well tilled soils?

To lay upon the whistling grass and watch the stars?

Will I ever again take joy to hear,

The sweet mirthful birdsong from yesteryear?

Or do I march now to my doom?

Where all is dark, an unfathomable gloom.

I hear now the drums as the Captains halt;

Before the Black Gate we shall make out stand.

And overhead I hear their fell cries,

The Nazgul as they sweep over the lands.

So we come to this at last,

After our long and weary march,

Led by Captains and Lords and Kings,

And for out final battle we steel our swords.

Yet now my doubt begins to fade;

For whether I live to see another day,

My home ever shall be free from shadow,

And my children shall play free in the golden meadows.

~

So, what thinkest thou, O High and Honorable Reader? Tell a poor and humble writer what you think of her work… ^_^ please?