The Heart of a King

- Lady of the Shire

Kneeling in the dirt
Tears spilling down his face
Gondor's King speaks gently
To his dying comrade.
The bitter wine of grief
Mingles with the grime
And sweat of battle.
No silver trumpets
No banners waving
In the silent wood.
Only a fallen lord of Gondor
And his heart-broken King.



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