Silver Trumpets

by: Brianna B.

A city of white,
And a courtyard of stone
The great tree of kings,
Trumpets calling them home.

Boromir, son of Gondor
He fights for the city of kings,
Her freedom and safety is his one desire
His voice on the battlefield rings.

Hear them calling? The great silver trumpets
Calling their Captain, their lord
The one who they fought for, the one who they died for,
Alas! For the wish of his life he'll have no reward.

He'd lead them in battle, and alway they'd follow,
To whatever end they'll fight
His greatest wish to see Gondor restored,
He'll give his strength, his valor, his life.

That great desire was what betrayed him,
To see his people safe,
He loves fiercely, he'll guard to to the end
The orcs fleeing to Mordor he'll send.

With shadows long upon the ground
Who will now the trumpets sound?
Who will now his people lead
To what voice will they now heed.

Alas the Son of Gondor
Has met a bitter end
He kept his honor and fought bravely,
But who will now his father send?

Who will lead the armies,
And who will fight the war?
Alas! For Gondor's lost her captain;
Across the stormy shore.

The tower guard is waiting,
Upon the pearly walls
A brother grieves, a father weeps,
Inside the ancient halls.

They heard the horn of Gondor
From Anduin's the stormy vale
Alas, now who will call it?
And who will bear the gallant tale?

A city of white,
And a courtyard of stone
The great tree of kings,
Trumpets calling them home.

~~ * ~~

A cry from Orthnanc

By: Hoyt H.

Orthnanc tower of Isengard,
Protrudes from the earth like a blackened shard,
A bone of the earth fractured in war,
The throne of a wizard that lives no more,
It's windows clamped, its doorways barred,
The eternal tower of Isengard.
~
Orthnanc tower was the home,
Of a wizard content not to roam,
The wizard white,the council's head,
From whom many wicked fled.
Praises were sung by many a bard,
About that lord of Isengard.
~
Orthnanc old held magic fair,
Sauruman skill was beyond compare,
He led the Istari in chaos and order,
Peace reigned within his rocky border.
A place of rest in times hard,
There was shelter within Isengard
~
Orthnanc tower held Saruman,
A wizard beyond the strength of man,
His power grew his magic was great,
But like all he met his fate.
Evil grew and none were scarred,
More than the keeper of Isengard.
~
Orthnanc once a place of joy,
Became a home to an evil ploy,
From Sauron Lord of trick and lie,
Saruman was bent to serve the eye.
His name was ruined his land was marred,
And evil came to Isengard.
~
Orthnanc was stripped of its mighty trees,
There branches burned to Sauron appease,
Saruman spirit was defeated,
By Sauron who stole, and burned and cheated.
Evil took over and the world was jarred,
When good departed from Isengard.
~
Orthnanc now stands to remind all,
That even the strongest, men can fall,
In power we still see the white wizard,
In the blinding snow of a freezing blizzard.
And no mortal can discard,
The lesson learned at Isengard,
~
Orthnanc still stands where it always will,
All who behold it know it's thrill,
While evil took Saruman away,
The true white wizard is seen each day.
In snow capped peaks that stand guard,
Over the ancient Isengard.
~
Orthnanc remains while Sarumans gone,
The wizards magic shall ever wan.
In white capped waves and Sandy shores,
Saruman has past through a new set of doors.
His presence is felt in each square yard,
Within the sight of Isengard.
~
Orthnanc was home to Christopher Lee,
Who captured Saruman perfectly,
Now he too has reached the undying lands,
A pure white boat on pure white sands,
But on stands for ever that one last shard,
Of Saruman, in Isengard.

~~ * ~~

The Mines

By: the Champion of Mirkwood

Darkness covers the lost path,
Revealing the faded shadows,
Time has come yet it has passed,
Consumed by crippling battles.
All glory has now decayed,
The Halls are robbed of their masons,
History has been written,
With Dwarven blood at the basin.

The nostrils are under siege,
The stench has become prevalent,
The olfaction must stand trial,
With a verdict quite evident.
Decayed flesh divides the air,
And conquers all the senses,
The scent has grown more putrid,
Dismantling hope's defenses.

The air has become heavy,
Like butter that is now rotten,
Flooding the mouth with disgust,
The fresh air has been forgotten.
With another toxic breathe
Sinking the lungs of travelers,
Ash and flesh reign in these Halls,
Now the tombs have found their handlers.

Readied sword, axe, and arrow,
The travelers grasp their weapons,
The pilgrim forced to relearn
The ancient Mine's evil lesson.
The corridor's stone is cold,
A chill runs rampant through the skin,
A homecoming is thwarted,
As the Dwarf now mourns for his kin.

The silence has grown louder,
With each echo getting longer,
Every footstep screams its pain,
And every breathe is more somber.
Nine hearts beat in unison,
Like battle drums in the distance,
The ghosts have finished their song,
The Balrog demands submission.

~~* ~~