LOTRO Poems- Part 5

The Loss



They topped the hill

            and saw the castle under attack.

Everyone moved

             into fighting mode

            and readied to protect their homeland

            and the people within the far walls.

She and some of the others rode on horseback toward the castle,

            cutting down as many of the enemy as they could

            along the way.

She, the She-Elf Warrior, and her troops,

            had the advantage

            of coming from behind the attackers

            to slay them,

            never slowing their steeds.

Nimgalliel, the Captain, and a few of the soldiers

            slid from their horses,

             ran to the castle

            searching for their royalty.

In the throne room they found them,

             and jumped into action

            dispatching many

             while trying to reach the royal family.

A King and Queen must be protected

             at all costs.

She and her Captain

            fought their way

            slaying a pathway

            to their sides.

They reached the King and his Queen

            when things took a turn

            that no one expected.

Their son, the Prince, the heir, their blood,

            her friend,

            turned on them all.

Time tricked her eyes;

             he stabbed the King

            and spun with his sword

             to kill his mother.

She put herself between

             the two and grabbed his wrist

            before he could.

They stared at each other;

            neither one said a word.

She anticipated his lunge and moved out of the way.

She punched with her dagger,

            the hilt hit him square.

He staggered back. Blood  dripped from his nose.

            His mouth took on a sinister grin.

While they fought,

             the queen’s guards

             got her out of the room.

The fight persisted around them.

The Prince’s lust for power,

            premature for his age,

            had brought evil  between the two of them.

He was able to back her

            into a corner

            but that didn’t stop her uncanny defense.

She was hardly afraid;

             she was raised as a warrior.

He  smirked to her face, “I can end this now! “

“That’s not going to happen.

            My gods see your soul.

            You will die in your fantasy,

            hardly a King.”

The Prince parried back, “Fight me more, so yours will be a slow,

            and painful death.”

He gripped her wrists tighter and he tried not to gloat.

            He saw her flinch. “I hope I am hurting you!”

            He enjoyed the sweet taste

            of her coming agony.


He paused to savor his

            imagined strike. In that pause,

            the She-Elf spun to the left,

            her dagger unsheathed,

            her wrists clearly free;

            she found flesh and his neck

            was severed quite cleanly.

His head and his body fell limp to the stone;

            his coup had been thwarted, her anger unleashed;

            his dishonorable patricide, all in one night,

            now undone!

The fighting had ceased; she regretted her anger, not

            her dagger’s arc.

She stood up and looked round the room.

Nearby, a soldier dropped his sword when

            he saw the Captain lying dead on the floor.

The soldier commended her,

            “You did what you should!”

More shouts from the hallway, “We all saw him strike!

            The King was  his mark,

             then went after his mother!”

Nimgalliel lamented, “I shouldn’t have done it, but you are right;

            he gave me no choice.

 I just hope the Queen understands.”

“She will. She saw her son

             kill the King,

             then attack you in force

             when you stepped in front of her to protect her!”



Chorus– in unison:

She would be a Captain like her father: the Captain of the Royal Guard. This day, the She-Elf Warrior rose to her destiny to save the Kingdom, while losing a King.  She had killed the Prince who was too petty to lead.  Her father fought till he could stand no more. His murderers left them all for dead, but Nimgalliel faked death no more. As the Kingdom beckoned, she fulfilled her fate; the gods placed her father’s dagger into her hands, and without a sound, she carried out her fate. She would prevail, for when a petty Prince gloats that he will enjoy killing a woman and her destiny, it is always his moment of death.





















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