Midweek Tales: Original Poetry - Lord of the Rings

Back when the Lord of the Rings movies first came out, I was trying different styles of writing. I always assumed poetry had to rhyme. I am absolute rubbish at trying to get any sort of rhyming going in my writing, so my attempts at poetry are all the non-rhyming sort. I wrote a few pieces based on LotR characters, and have decided to share them. I'll post a few this week, and the rest next week.

For some reason, no matter how hard I tried, I could not come up with anything for Aragorn, Legolas or Gimli, that wasn't clunky or cheesy, so they don't feature in my collection.

Boromir:

A man of honour, of valour
One who is looked to, to make things right
And you will do it
But at what price?
Will you forfeit your soul
To make everything right?
You stand on the edge
Staring into the abyss
Madness beckons
Then…
A glimmer of salvation…
As you sacrifice your life
Your soul is spared
And now you lie, at peace
For your final journey.

Theoden:

Pride and glory lost
To poison stealing the mind
To dark dreams stealing hope…
Sudden white light
Pierces the mind
Nowhere to hide
Defeating the poison
Dispelling the darkness
Heralding freedom
To rise up and stand tall once more.
But…
The damage has been done
Too much hesitation
Guilt, self-loathing
You allow another to lead your people
To mistaken safety
To face, instead,
The long, dark night
Of blood and death…
Could this be the end?
The sun rises
Doubt shatters
Now is the moment of truth
Reborn as a god of old
To ride, to lead your men
Once more
Pride and glory restored.

Riders of Rohan:

Chainmail clad
Bearing spear and shield
Astride powerful steeds
Ever ready for battle
Riding the plains to defend and protect
To be one with the horse
To fly over the land
To fly with the wind
No care save the sheer joy of riding…
To be one with the horse
But not to relax
Not to delight in the sheer joy of riding
But to be ever vigilant
Against enemies who appear from too many fronts.

Eowyn:

Pale and cold as a winter morning
Living day after day as a trapped bird
He comes with a kind word, a look
Defences start to crumble
Stoic pride gives way to smiles
Gives voice to ever-present desire to fight
Ignores pride to confess true feelings
Which, alas, cannot be answered
But which sets the mind
To ride out to battle
To face the horror
That only she can fight
Thus proving herself
A true daughter of kings.