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 |
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