A great king in a time of great danger,
poisoned by the spiteful words in his ear,
freed by wizard, elf, dwarf, Halfling and ranger
he learned to keep the people he trust near.
A crusade of vengeance and of man’s pride
for every man, answered three hundred roars.
The fortress of Hornburg, secure inside
myth tells that none can penetrate its doors.
Yet amalgams and dark wizardry’s fire
would have triumphed but for Théoden’s strength.
Overwhelmed, but never did man’s heart tire
always keeping Uruk-hai at arm’s length.
Just as victory seemed out of man’s sight
Mithrandir, saviour, returned from the east.
Shining in the rising sun, clad in white
fear of his power alone quelled the beast.
This epic battle should have been his last
yet Théoden’s pride wanted just one more
The Rohirrim rode on, determined, fast
Gondor calls; to the fields of Pelennor!
Alas, the muster of Rohan was small
and was met by the deared, dark Nazgûl lord,
clashing mutual power, one must fall:
the dark dynasty conquered man’s stern sword.
It was said no man could kill this dark wraith
yet woman and Halfling avenged their king
and soon the fate of man was, again, safe
but Théoden was conquered in the war of the ring.
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