The Ranger

Here’s a little snippet of my current project, attempting to intertwine my fascination of Tolkien’s song-infused Lord Of The Rings with a snuffer of poetry and a teensy bit of plot. I’m not incredibly sure if this will make sense out of context but I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

Through the fury of the ice and the howl of the wind,

Across the mountains the ranger did tread,

Taking unconscious figures upon her back,

Victims that fell prey to the Piper’s attack,

Her boots crunched the snow as it spat in her face,

Climbing atop her mount and riding with haste,

To a strange hideaway impossible quaint,

To tell her friends a message that could well make them faint,

The enemy had come; it was right at their door,

And had told her things that she could not ignore,

So she took to the hills to the house nestled there,

With potential recruits she would have to ensnare,

The house on the hill with a dull orange glow,

Seemed sad as she arrived with beasts and guests in tow,

For it would not be long until they should depart,

And for the longest time this rest had touched her heart,

A home and a hearth for those who would dare,

To question, to doubt, to criticise and to care,

And the oasis it was in this desert of snow,

Was as refreshing as that comfortable glow,

But it was not for her to decide their fate,

They would have no choice but to pack and vacate,

For the road was one that had been travelled much,

But for so long had she left her foot on the clutch,

That she could not imagine ranging once again,

Becoming a wanderer, a fisher of men,

But as her friends would surely most humbly agree,

That if it meant their survival they’d happily flee,

Across mountain and river, across desert and fjord,

To eliminate the source of their utter discord,

For if they could no longer run from their threat,

They would learn of their weakness and repay the debt,

Of the bounty that surely lay upon their heads,

Since the moment they left their comfortable beds,

And caught the eye of the worst of mankind,

Who considered their deaths justice redefined,

So it was not surely they who would hunt for their prey,

Those masters of darkness were predators that day,

But when they gave up their secrets,

When they gave themselves away,

The ranger would be there on that final day,

To fight injustice with her rifle in hand,

Atop her noble mount,

Across noble sands,

For a land that had once been littered with grace,

For this land that was sadly no longer the case,

For the grief she had suffered and that of her friends,

She will fight for their freedom until their story ends,

So as she clenched her fists and rode into the night,

With no more direction than that pale light,

Her enemies plotted and kept a keen eye,

For the Piper was dead,

They could not deny,

That they had tested the water and it had bitten back,

But they would strike each new blow until the ocean did crack.


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