Nírnaeth Arnoediad by ford_of_bruinen

The choking ash no longer chokes
but smothers,
the dust has drank its dreadful fill of blood,
soon the ravens come
descending,
shrieking,
picking at our dead,
their eyes,
their flesh.
The injured lie hidden
among the dead
layered in grime
and fallen friends,
there is no victory here,
no hope re-found.
On this endless field of broken heroes
lies fathers,
sons,
and brothers,
side by side.
If word will live to fly to hidden cities
the wail of mothers,
maidens,
will sound far.
Today we saw the death of freedom,
of future
and of hope -
they all did fall.

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