this is an experiment in epic poetry, using the heroic couplet.
Facing MordorThe mountains of Mordor hang grim in the sky;
Their quest is to go there, then, likely to die.
In these blasted lands no bird ever will sing,
The only thing beautiful here is the Ring.
Two friends and their escort, a poor gangrel thing
Hide in reeking cesspools when Nazguls take wing.
They may be playing into Sauron's hand,
If they even survive this detestable land.
How they long for the Shire, or Samwise does at least;
Poor Frodo cannot keep his eyes from the East.
There through murk grim Barad Dur now arises,
And Sauron surveys all the lives he despises.
At first the adventure seemed so brave and grand;
Then Gandalf fell during Moria's last stand.
Now here they crouch, in a foul land bare as bone,
About to face ultimate evil, alone.
Or not quite alone; their companion crawls near;
Could he be an ally? Or someone to fear?
Frodo showed him mercy, his friendship to gain,
But Gollum has killed, and may soon kill again.
They're hungry and thirsty, the air burns each throat;
The Nazgul's steed high up above shrieks it's note.
Through fathoms of smoking unbreathable air,
It still conveys thoughts of bleak doom and despair.
So, hopeless, they gaze upon their gruesome fate;
Morannon, steel toothed, Mordor's horrid north gate.
There endless patrols march again and again,
Corps of orcs and of monsters, but also of men.
"Let's go then", sighs Frodo, his hand to his chest,
While Samwise turns 'round, says farewell to the West.
"Not that way! You will die! And I will lose Precious!
We can show a Safe way, if nice hobbits lets us!"
So Gollum now whimpers, in great agitation,
And plunges the two friends into consternation.
Frodo says "I have a stern task to fulfill;
But go your way, let it be just me they kill."
"Ach, foolish hobbit, it won't be just you!
When they've picked your bones, they will take Precious too!"
The hobbits considered this. What would it bring
If they fought through so much just to give up the Ring?
"I don't trust him Master, nor ever have done;
He'll just steal the One ring, and off he will run!"
"Ach Samwise the counselor, putting on airs!
But we won't betray you...this Smeagol swears."
Frodo looked at him sternly. "Smeagol, have a care!
Will you make this oath upon the Ring? Do you dare?"
A spasm shook Gollum, with gulping and blinking;
He was in great fear, but what else was he thinking?
"Yes yes, on the Ring" he whispered in dread,
"Now let me show you a safer path instead."
Samwise shook his head, but poor tired Frodo brooded.
His features were troubled, expression was hooded.
No wizard for guidance, no council for rede,
No Galadriel with advice fit to heed.
Two pathways now loomed, one of death, one of dread.
"Why did this choice fall to me?" was all he said.
(c) chessiejo 2007
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