Silent Pain
Éowyn after Aragorn's departure for the Paths of the Dead.
by Vané Alasse

Chill mist floats softly over early dawn
And catches memories of days long gone
When hope was more than a mere fantasy
And hour by hour was blissful endlessly.

Gentle footsteps rustle the icy clouds
And pause reflecting evil's darkening shroud
That swallows greedily the morning's sun
And with its black intent halts daylight's run.

Through the gloom a figure rises tall.
Her eyes flash through the mirk and softly fall;
The burdens of her mind and heavy heart
Long for the soft caress of morning's spark.

Alone she stands and ever must she be,
So says her bleak despair and misery.
The tang of bitterness and deepest dread
Coil cunningly around her lovely head.

The yearning of her heart cries out in vain
Increasing with each beat her throbbing pain.
Her pale determined face is traced with tears,
Her shaking hands reflect her endless fears.

Today the one she loves rides far away
Into the mist and lifeless, groping spray
Without a second glance to see her stand
A beacon in a quickly darkening land.