Ride of the Rohirrim

Marching soliders,
stamping hooves,
a charge at the horizon.

Morning rays,
and battle calls,
rise above the horizon.

Horses charge,
the uruks hold strong,
but thier luck wil soon break.

Frodo climbs,
the moutain of fire,
his life and world at stake.

Horses fall,
and men as well,
while Frodo struggles on.

Through the firey casam,
through darkness and doubt,
the ring is finally destoryed.

The uruks flee,
the men prevail,
the peace is at last reclaimed.

But not Frodo,
he is scarred too deep,
his body bruised and mamaimed.

He'll move one,
his peace restored,
now others can move on.

Relesed of evil,
fear and doubt,
now that the ring is gone.

- casper