morvidra:

Today’s theme: Over Time

(The original inspiration for this was ‘Kerowyn’s Ride’ by Mercedes Lackey, but it… expanded.)

Ironfoot’s Ride

Ironfoot, Ironfoot, where are you riding?
Your wounds scarcely healed and an axe by your side
Your face filled with sorrow and fury and fear
Tell me, young Ironfoot, where do you ride?

Our father, our leader, was most foully slain:
The heir to great Durin, now ne’er to regain
His throne or his kingdom. O, fierce was our hate!
And I slew the great orc at the Moria gate.

But though we prevailed, still our forces wore thin,
The war took my parents, my cousins, my kin.
Aye, the bodies lay thick by the end of the fray,
And we’d not enough stone to entomb them away.

Do you see the smoke rising from far in the west,
Where the corpses still burn of our brightest and best?
And the army that follow now march on my word;
I left home but a lad, I return now a Lord.

Ironfoot, Ironfoot, where are you riding?
Ahead of your warriors: so grimly they stride
They whisper of sieges, of treasure and madness
Tell me, stout Ironfoot, where do you ride?

We ride to the west where our kinfolk need aiding:
Their mountain besieged and two armies invading.
And many leagues hence we could still hear their thunder –
What chance have but fourteen against such a number?

The dragon no longer his slumber is keeping,
But in the great lake now forever is sleeping.
And O the great hoard of our treasures reclaimed!
But I fear – how I fear for one I will not name.

For gold that a dragon long time has kept near
Is more deadly to dwarves than a poison-tipped spear.
Though I ride at his bidding to settle his trouble,
Will I find my old friend, or his grandfather’s double?

Ironfoot, Ironfoot, where are you riding?
The years now have silvered your once-blazing pride
Though hale, you are aged, and should surely be resting
Tell me, old Ironfoot, where do you ride?

Old evil returns, a foul dealing of fate,
An army of orc-spawn now batters our gates.
To Rivendell’s council we sent of our best;
Our star now pursues a most perilous quest.

And if Erebor fails, the north lands will fall,
And the orcs will go southwards to answer his call.
But while I still breathe we will not see that day:
I take axe to do battle against lawful prey.

And dwarves in their age are not weakened and frail,
But stone-like we harden: we fight ‘til we fail!
My people still need me, my kingdom, my land,
I take my last ride; I will make my last stand.