Lord of the Nazgûl
by Raelyn (+Ryan Hayes)
Then cries of some fell race
Had taken hope from men to face,
The darksome siege upon the walls
Which grow with their eerie calls,
To curse them that liveth still,
And call fourth no escape of will.
They flew on winged creatures high,
Hither and thither.
The Nine seemed to sail in the sky
On monsters of which they bestride;
beasts from what region none may know,
Bred to seize what they may devour
And to horrify men in that dreadful hour,
Ready to undertake foul deeds
On those awful steeds.
They screamed in answer to their leader,
Black Captain, living dead.
Against whom not one withstood
Nor didst not dread.
Darkest King upon his steed,
Commander of the wicked covey,
Eating and marring all light and aid,
With each wave of his blade.
Their beast's talons descended low
Grasping men, and with a stride
They let go.
The forms of once proud men,
Dashing to pieces on the would's floor,
None could hope to live after such a fall.
This is the Lord of the Nazgûl's landfall!
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