Antipodean Writer: The Riding of the Rohirrim

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The Ride of the Rohorrim


With the bay of the sounding trumpets came the riders of the Mark
As the new dawn rose over Pellanor, sunrise dispersed the dark
The front gate of Minas Tirith, shattered lay, all battered-in
When Rohan succored Gondor – their allies called the Rohirrim.

King Théoden led his riders who had come by the secret way
For the Pukél-men were their willing guides to relieve Gondor that day.
Just in time came the men of Rohan, to ride down and then to kill
Every foe that came within their reach, in their show of battle-skill.

“Come – arise! Rise Rohan riders! With fell deeds – slaughter and fire!
Lower spears, let shields be splintered! Come wrath and battle-ire!
With the sword cut down your foes before the sun sets on today!
We shall ride to the aid of Gondor! And what force can Rohirrim stay?”

So they sang to the rising sunrise, as they charged with low spears in strength
By the thousands with their riders, charged they the orcs all down their length
Then they hewed down the dark-haired Southron, and the warrior Easterling
They cut down both troll and Variag, led by the sword of the Rohan king.

Théoden led on his horsemen, as they re-charged the Southron line
To cut down the strong Haradrim – and their blood they poured out like wine.
Then they charged at the mighty Mûmaks, trampling down the Orcan power
For the need in that day was desperate – so they fought fight and they died that hour.

In the moment of his triumph, from above like a bird of doom
Descended the Chief of the Nazgûl, like the opening blast of the tomb.
The Chief Nazgûl slew poor Snowmane – King Théoden’s trusty steed
Who throw off the king of Rohan’s body: broken on the mead.

Yet the Nazgûl got slight victory, for he too was soon cut down.
Then did Éomer have his vengeance – for he now held the Rohan crown.
He rode on to slay their enemies, and to break up their shield-walls
To ride down all the hosts of Sauron, with red blades see their foe-men fall.

Pellanor had room for battle, soon all its fields were dyed blood-red
Blood poured from the heaped-up bodies, of the living and the newly dead.
Though war’s fortunes turned against him, Éomer yet high in courage shone
For however went the battle: he and Rohan would still fight on.

“Out of doubt, to the new day’s rising, out of dark to the rising light
I will ride in the sunlight singing. By my sword – blood-red and bright!
To the end of hope I’m riding. I ride on though with breaking heart.
Now for wrath! Now for death and ruin! Let our deeds of vengeance start!”

Sang Éomer as the tide of battle, turned again and upon a hill
Rohan rallied round their warriors, as they hacked and battled still.
He defied the armies of Sauron! What was death – to inglorious shame?
Though this be the last ride of Rohirrim, their last deeds shall resound with fame!


This poem was first posted on Antipodean Writer.

Antipodean Writer

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