by
Hoegard Harfoot
May 24, 2012
Here the livery of Theoden thegn is worn,
Displaying pastoral green hills that roll,
The white steed tail flowing and forelock unshorn,
From the Gap to Entwash his banner’s patrol.
Striding steeds bare the Rohirrim’s forth,
As wind whipped manes welcome the morn,
Heroes of the meadow hall prove their worth,
From the backs of horses where they were born.
Clarion horns calling over the green hills,
Where battle clad riders cross high-plains earth,
Shining helms reflect the sun like river rills,
As sturdy shields offer a safe berth.
Warlike duty on Eorlingas doth take a toll,
As the shadow rises they give their best,
Boldly toward battle-born fate they stroll,
Whilst dark days go down into the west.
Under Simberlmyne ever shall they rest,
A meadowed tomb keeps their reverent dead,
The barrow mound above a hero’s breast,
A fair flowered hillock the rider’s final bed.
Yet the horse banner now flecked with red,
Still flies over Rohan’s halls and hearth,
A lasting symbol in each frayed thread,
Reminding every Rohirrim of their worth.