Two Towers - Drabbled, The
3. The Uruk-Hai
Crashing and thrashing, darker than death,
With speed that's as quick as a hobbit's heartbeat,
They haul the prize home with trampling feet.
Battered and bruised the smallest are taken,
The Quest split asunder, the hobbits forsaken,
But the chasers are chased as the ranks are broken,
And Hope is left in a small Elven token.
Thundering, sundering the Rohirrim ride,
Racing and chasing, with valiant pride,
Cornered and crushed the Uruk-hai fall,
Secretly, slowly the little ones crawl,
Creeping and peeping, with hardly a sound,
Until looming and glooming – the trees close around.
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