Flash! went the staff as blue fire burns the stone
But the Riders were strong. The wizard was alone.
Weathertop, a watchtower, built in happier days
When Arnor in the north was created and raised
Many towers of strength to keep watch on the north
Till the envy and malice of Mordor went forth
And Arnor was betrayed to the death. Even so
Arnor fell in the centuries of so long ago.
In a circle of fire, one hand raised up a sword
With a steel-blade of star-shine. His theurgic ward
Held the Black Riders back. Gandalf’s voice chanting rose
Speaking runes power-potent whose force fell like blows
On the Riders whose voices rose up with a wail
Like hell’s wights in their barrows whose caterwauls hail
Fiendish death and destruction to fools yet alive
Searching barrows and thinking with darkness to strive.
Next the wizard unyielding brought helios’ flame
To sweep all the hill, Amon Sûl, of old fame.
The Riders driven back, shrieking anger and loss
As the flames leap the stones to fill crevice and fosse.
Though The Nine all that night kept the wizard at bay
Their dark powers diminished by dawn of next day
So then Gandalf escaped them and rode for the north
Leading four in pursuit as he galloped fast forth
Drawing off – as he hoped – the Riders from his friends
Who to Rivendell journeyed with Strider who wends
Secret paths through the wilderness wild and fell
To make safe his return to the dale Rivendell.
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