The Grey Company

A Poem for Whitsuntide

Who were those
We met on the road
At dewfall?

A scout clad in grey
On a black-maned horse
‘Good travellers’ said he
‘Pray let us pass…’

So we stood up beside
The hawthorn and may
The elder and whin
And gave them the way.

Tall in the saddle
With weapons and gear
All stained from the battle
The memory of fear.

The moonlight shone cold
On brooches like stars
The symbol of Arnor
Their master and cause.

Their grey eyes saw keenly
The ghosts of their slain
Elessar’s companions
Come Northward again.

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