A is for Anduril

An ABC poem I wrote to become a member of the Bards' Guild at theonering.com (I'm Dubatuluk over there.)

 

A is for Anduril, a

Blade fit for a king, under which his enemies

Cringe at the

Dealing of justice there to cling,

Enticing to most and

Fierce to the others,

Guiding its host and

Hindering the mothers of

Infants taken away when

Justice is dim, and the

King they would slay

Longs to find him

Memories which he lay behind, in the

Night, when such

Ominous darkness grew, as

Putrid death did fight, and

Quarreling,

Rank upon rank hindered the light,

Slaying those who would dare to

Tread upon evil and

Upon the dead, to

Victory! To raise their swords above the

War,

Xeric of the blood from before, razed by the

Yarrow on the field of death, ‘til with

Zeal he raised the cry around, where evil can no longer be found.