Lay of the Shieldmaid-The Rohirrim remember Éowyn in song

by Dec 4, 2006Poetry

She rode to battle in the likeness of a man
To have her share in the glory and honor of our land
She sharpened her sword and burnished her shield
The white horse on green flew proudly in the killing field
She rode swift and strong as the song of slaying was sung
Her eyes were aflame and her enemies were on the run
But lo! The ground shook with the thunder of the earth
From the East come monsters of unimaginable girth
From the White Mountains to the green fields
Their roar rendered the sky, as they marched for the kill.
Into the fray, she rode, Eorl the Young reborn
Her sword was keen; her steed was swift; glory adorned!
She slew the great beast as she was thrown from her noble steed
Ever strong, our warrior maiden, without a crown ‘though our queen

They came from the east, Théoden’s bane; Sauron’s vile beasts
Her heart was torn as she ran; the beast bore down upon his feast.
She stood between, white beast and the Fell, erect and fey of countenance
Her helmet was thrown, her hair of burnished gold; she did not blanch
The beast bore down, as our maiden strong wielded a deadly blow
In agony, the beast fell, what was left, no man would utter so bold
Dark as night; that which stilled thought and shriveled bold hearts
Eyes of red flame was all she saw, as she shielded herself from his angry wroth
A weapon of terror, he wielded upon our maiden, though she did not flee
Her shield was splintered in his final blow, but lo! The servant came to her need
With a cry he plunged his sword into the fiend as Éowyn rose to end his life
Her sword was shattered as our maiden fair, lay cold within death’s bite
Her brother came and beheld her there, with a tormented soul he ran to war
Men came and bore her away, broken in soul; though alive on death’s door

In the Houses of Healing, she lay in cold repose, broken arm and tormented soul
Dreams of slaying and death; her brother lay dead, so the whispers told
Within her mind, she fought alone, our warrior maiden in death throes
Darkened fiends, shadows in her mind, spoke of decay as death’s wind blows.
But from the land of the living, came the hands of healing, lain upon our warrior
Spoken words from the lips of a king, bringing Éowyn from death’s barrow
But her heart was grieved, for she could not see, what renown she won in battle
Long forgotten whispers, sorcerer’s woven words, like the poisons of an adder.
Despoiling her heart, chilling her spring, she looked to the east as her spirit waned
But hope would be renewed within her heart; the shadow would not be her bane
For spring had come in the form of a man; warrior renowned in the land of Kings
To the land under the trees, he took our warrior maiden, where living waters spring
Fair was that green land, hidden from the sky, where hope and flowers bloomed
On that day, glory was her name; we keep her within our hearts as hope looms.


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