Some stuff...

[The Lost One]

The Wickest Curse


What is the wickest curse,
that trips the tongue to tell?
Like hearing a warhorse in it's dying scream,
when men and blades are fell,
When blood washes all in a nasty pink,
or a runny, spitten crimson?
When rain falls hard at the iron dusk,
of a day by which ghosts are risen,
Hold! All ye who speak of this,
in terms of courage and honor,
Bone and gristle are rend today,
in no such honorable manner,
Lest ye think a sword,
and shield thy daily mien,
Shields are broke and swords are buried,
in this terrible rain,
This me thinks, the wickest curse,
the vow of dark and sorrow,
Get thee sword and shield, I'd say,
for we fight again tomorrow...

-TLO

The Hand of War


Carry me home upon my shield,
if I cannot walk from this place...
Let the darkness come hither, o'er blood covered field,
so that death shall not see my face,


These hands of mine that once gripped tools,
to turn the earth's rich soil,
now grip the blade of dark woe and rue,
to loose the foe's blood, my toil...


For the morn that is now, let battle commence!
As we turn our meek hands to war!
I did not seek to be brought forth, and hence,
I will be mighty, and if needs be, much more!


Let stone be the face mine enemy sees!
Let peril come forth from mine eye!
Let all who approach be brought to their knees,
by my savage and bestial cry!


Yet, let me seek one moment's of peace,
before my hand is turned,
Before blood is spilled and hearbeats are ceased,
before men and battlements burned,


I was a farmer who once tilled the fields,
no blood on my hands, no trace...
So carry me home upon my shield,
if I cannot walk from this place...

- TLO





The Rider's Prayer
(Pledge of the East Mark)

I ride upon the wings of storm,
I come from Marches East,
I carry rue and dark tides bourne,
I suffer wick and Orcish scorn,
For I have come to shock and warn,
of hills that hide the beast!


Ride east beside the forest peering,
for there are no allies there,
Among the branches seek no clearing,
the trees have fangs and are more than willing,
to turn from grove to freakish killing,
So let the Rider there beware!


And come you once upon dark hills, brown,
Sound your horn, I preach!
A place of hidden death you've found,
a place where men and horses drown,
where enemies lay all around,
and friends are a long ride's reach!


Now ride like all the wind within,
for we have heard your call!
The Orcs have watched since you've come in,
the horn matters not in the building din,
they will be upon you if you once give in!
So ride in your saddle tall!


We will come! Like the morning Sun!
The Riders of Rohan!
In spite of all that is said and done,
in Theoden's Hall, where poison runs,
In spite of the words of black Wormtongue!
We are here to guard our lands!


Pray to the Sun to guard the day,
Pray the Moon to watch the night,
But who do you think keeps evil at bay?
Who hunts the Orcs that plague this way?
Who suffers the lashes of Saruman's say?
When we know in our hearts we must fight?


Pray that the Riders of Rohan will come,
and then join us with horse and steel,
The winds of war are hiding among,
those who tell us our land is won,
Those who whisper that the killing is done!
Those who force Theoden to kneel...


Pray that the Riders of Rohan come!


- TLO