- Isilmë

A tall woman clad in white,
girt with long strands of silver.
She is a breathtaking sight,
gold hair flows like a river.

Still as stone and ice she stood,
slender, strong as steel, like mother.
Her face so fair, any man would,
to her grace, fall in rapture

She, the noble daughter of Kings,
Éowyn, golden maiden, Lady of Rohan.
Dernhelm, shield-maiden, the Rohirrim do sing,
on battlefield, secrecy gone, fought and won.