Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our regular monthly feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. Each month we will feature a small selection of the poems submitted, but we hope you will read all of the poems that we have received here in our Great Hall of Poets.
So come and join us by the hearth and enjoy!
If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to firstname.lastname@example.org One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.
The Battle of the Hornburg
by: Lydwina Marie
The rain fell hard and heavy,
the tramping of feet was steady.
Upon the wall the men stood firm,
not yielding, brave and tall.
From the dark sky there came a rain
of glittering arrows; ‘twas the Orc bane!
But there flew a return of dark, barbed shafts
and men fell that day that should have lived.
Aragorn Elessar stood beside the King
upon the Tower; his face was grim.
The outlook was grim indeed that day
for the Orcs were many, and they were few.
A hail of dark arrows flew from the wall,
descending upon the Orcs from walls tall:
The Orcs could not stand against such a storm
yet the battle had only just begun.
A flash of fire cut through the night:
the Deeping Wall burst: dire, Men’s plight!
Now indeed their forces were few
but as of yet they were not through.
Now grim intent lay in their face
and determined was their fast pace.
They would return the blow
though too late, perhaps, it seemed.
Éomer, the King’s son, stood with Aragorn;
their hearts with love for friends was torn:
But together their swords glittered,
unsheathing in moon’s bright gleam.
Together they ran, swift as wind,
that flies between swaying trees.
Towards the charging Orcs
to their midst, where evil lurks.
A shadow rose, cast itself upon the Prince,
and Éomer fell upon the stones:
But the deed was not ended, for behold:
Gimli, Glóin’s son, with his axe so cold.
Thrice it gleamed, blood then flowed
and Éomer arose, his blade glowed;
And then threw himself upon the horde
of Orcs that stood upon Hornburg’s road.
Now the Orcs felt fear, and back they swayed
and continued not Hornburg’s raid:
But retreated, chased by Elessar’s heir;
‘twas Aragorn, strong and tall!
Aragorn of Gondor stood upon the wall,
Andúril in hand, firm and tall!
“Back!” his clear voice commanded.
“For now comes the dawn of day!”
The Orc hordes swayed:
the Sun was rising o’er mountain glade!
And from the peak of the mountains came
Gandalf the White and Erkenbrand the Fair!
Wielding spear and bow, they galloped down
and upon the Orcs Fangorn frowned!
It opened wide to enclose them within,
never more to reappear by land or sea.
So the Battle of the Hornburg ended at last,
as great as any battles fought long past.
Rohan was freed of Saruman’s sway,
but many also had been slain.
Victory is never without much cost;
and so it was with the Rohirrim.
Many who were not meant to die
were slain, and upon that bloody field they lay.
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