1. Forlorn Hope
We spoke not, and none spoke to us,
As if to speak would break a spell.
Allowing fear to overflow,
A dreadful dam-burst of terror.
None watching dared to wish us well,
It would have seemed a hope misplaced.
Many murmured a benison,
And strewed our path with herbs of grace.
We focussed not on moving lips,
Lest our own take on a quiver,
Unbecoming Gondor's metal.
We had become steel and iron.
All our soft longings, love, and hope,
Were leached away by that silence.
Yet what remained was fortitude.
If by the blades of our bodies
We could defend the White City – then let it be so.
From warm, fleshly men to weapons.
Tempered steel scabbarded in ice.
Soon to be wreathed not with flowers,
But necklace and crown of rubies.
We, who would not be sheathed again,
Unless it was in the soft earth Of our moon-drenched Ithilien.
We rode forth then in that silence,
Forth to meet the coming thunder.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.