Thread:Tharaerel/@comment-35283741-20190106105428

It’s said that there’re the Towers White

beneath the mountains far,

beneath the hea'ens of moonlight bright

where dwelleth many a star.

upon the heath of Westerland,

beneath the dusky sky,

upon the failing hoary strand

the gulls there sighing fly.

the sea is dark, the sails are lost,

the towers standing grey

like spike of old neath heavy frost,

when people passed away.

another poem:

in a morning wan I woke up early,

while Orcs are plund’ring by.

o rangers brave, please take me with ye,

for I feel the death is nigh.

if there I fall in battles bloody,

in peace please let me lie,

and plant a beauteous flower with me

neath silent mountains high.

if people pass there by my body,

“what a blossom fair!' they'll sigh,

“to rangers brave belongs her beauty,

for Gondor did he die.” 