No curse like this of mine! King of the Dead
Bound under oath to dwell in darkened halls
Under the stony mounts where tunnels led
From Dimholt to where Morthond Vale falls
Passing green foothills, where stands an old Hill
Holding the Erec Stone near which I swore
To aid Isildur. His oath binds me still
And all my people to support his war.
Isildur’s heir shall summon us to fight
One day, if he yet comes. For who can tell
What doom shall come to pass? Here sable night
Surrounds us like the stygian shades of hell.
We spirits live – chained by the oath we broke
Till we redeem the promise which we spoke.
Love original poetry? Visit Tolkien Tribute for more.
Loading ...
No comments
Trackbacks/Pingbacks