Poems of the Pine: Minas Tirith

We arrive in the White City to find that danger is creeping closer.

Book 4 – Minas Tirith

It was time to ride
To the Tower of Guard:
The massive city
Of Minas Tirith.
We found Faramir
On the field as we rode
But he was downed by a dart
Of a deadly Nazgûl.
 
As the soldiers in the city
For a siege prepared
The steward studied
A stone for news.
He saw shadows grow
And ships approach,
While our foes filched
Frodo of the Shire.
 
The sun was gone
And a siege was coming
As the enemy gathered
For Gondor’s doom.
The white tree withered
And worry prevailed
For no hope remained
In the halls of the West.
 
We shook the vision
That vanquished hope
And spoke to Gandalf the Grey.
We must head for Rohan
Where its riders gathered
Or the West will lose this war.

Will we find the Riders of Rohan in time?

Pineleaf Needles