Found Poetry by Firienfield

Disregard of all warnings
he longed to yield.
He could not speak
resistance became unbearable

everything remained
dim and dark
five tall figures

white faces burned
keen and merciless
their eyes fell upon him
they rushed towards him

desperate he drew his sword
it flickered red
the figures halted
"O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!"

a pain like a dart
poisoned his shoulder
dropping his sword,
slipped the Ring from his finger.

- Firienfield