By Braag, Son of Balin  

Hama Stood 

In darkest days, The Rohirrim were mired  
    With Grima, Isengard conspired  
A glamour cast on Thengel-Son
    Had led the Mark to brink of ruin, before waxing doom of Orodruin
With Dotage, heavy on our sire
    Until Hama let Mithrandir’s staff, cleanse his lord with secret fire 

Still with noble Theodred lost
    Amid cruel Orthanc’s unleashed host
And the Westfold feeling Dunland’s wrath
    From Edoras we fled in haste, to Helm’s Deep’s stony cold embrace
There to brace with beam and post
    And hunker down to hide in crystal caves what mattered most

And as the rain drew dark that night
    While evil enveloped the vale with blight
And terror that the onslaught wrought
    Spread thru parapets and towers, bought with lives, the precious hours
Creeping dawn’s reluctant light
    Found the Hornburg’s battered gates besieged in desperate plight

It was in that darkest hour that Hama stood
    Amidst the crumbled blocks and splintered wood
Alone he faced the snarling hordes
    And guarded as the final ward, the only door ‘tween death… and his Lord
Hama stood where none other would
     And no Uruk could move him, though death was understood

At the last, impossibly he’d borne
    The vital moments stealing to the morn
A door warden he was
    And still remained, with thoughts of Leofred and Eorl he’d been sustained
But E’en as he fell, he heard Helm Hammerhand’s horn
    Rohan had survived, though ever forlorn
        And forevermore with Simbelmyne his grave was adorned

Hama, son of Leoforth
    Door-Ward of uncommon worth
Of whose courage, the minstrels sing
    With blood slicked back pressed ‘gainst the door, he did retreat not
        One…
            Step…
                More.
    Rising from his lowly birth,
        Sacrificed, he bore the price, for Mark and King
            and Middle Earth

Braag Son of Balin,  8/15/18