Stand & Daughter of Kings

[written_leaves]

Chalice tipp'd, crushed lily-bud,
Spilling your gold among the blood,
To lay, a time unseeing.

For Eowyn, both her courageous stand over the dying Theoden and the war she fought in the heart.

Stand

Felled by loyalty's own hand,
His dying face knew not your stand -
Behold the honour of this house!
The golden maid midst battle's smoke,
By a declaration's final stroke,
You stood before his slayer.

Red those eyes and dark his mace -
Shattered arm and greying face,
Chilling your bone to match your heart,
Chalice tipp'd, crushed lily-bud,
Spilling your gold among the blood,
To lay, a time unseeing.

O trampled flower, sullied gold -
Your strength was of the House of old,
The death you sought was not your own.
Pale the steel that held not back -
Sable smoke and spirit black
Rise upward.

-
Daughter of Kings

Pale sun was striving against the night you'd known,
The fear slowly receding beneath the hands of kings,
When his eyes saw with pity the dark neglected throne,
Where you'd stood like a hooded falcon unmoved,
A white falcon who knew that it dare not lift wings.

A winter-bourne lily, you were lovely but cold
A river swift, golden, washed down from the snows.
Your hands knew the sword, knew the bow to be pulled,
How to spill out the blood til the enemy's face,
Whiter than your own, felt the earth from your blows.

He felt of your trembling and knew you had fallen.
This heir of the king, stern, grey-cloaked and regal,
His eyes met your soul, then passed on to his calling,
No answering spark for your dry-tindered heart
No warmth for a falcon from the heart of an eagle.

You have watched him a-riding, a-riding away.
As a flower whose budding was touched by the frost
White robed, silver-girt with the winter's spring day
Your ungathered bloom lay fast-closed to the sun,
Your tears lay unshed as you grieved what you'd lost.

Do you still long for heights, do you still seek the sky
Where your wings cannot reach, and your breath is a cloud?
Will you ride seeking death turning aside your eyes
From the place in this world that is rightfully yours?
Held firmly inside, you would not cry unbound.

He is riding, a-riding, a-riding away.
To deadly darkness you would follow his lead,
On your own path of death: you have chosen your way
In deceit and despair, hard, tempered in pain,
What matter is death when souls no longer bleed?

You have broken the bars of your desolate cage,
By your hand would you shatter their power over you.
Jagged edges long sharpened by silence and rage
They will slash as you pass them, deathly to feel.
But what are wounds to the dead, never feeling anew?

Bright daughter of kings, fair maiden of Rohan
The blackness would find you before you'd know light.
White flower of winter, shining blade of the plains,
The enemy knew not the danger you posed,
For your heart was cold-darkened and ready to fight.

What is death to a warrior who is deadened inside,
This white falcon falling to earth from the heights?
When put to the test, from life there's no hiding,
You shone forth in glory, white golden and black,
As with valour you faced down the end of your flight.

With the courage of ice facing death's darkest fire,
Your blazing stood forth with great wrath at your loss:
A young maiden of Rohan and a child of the Shire.
No man by your side as you challenged this evil
With the aid of an other, also lonely and lost.

Spread forth your wings, and lift out of the night!
Sweet scented leaves joins the voice of your brother.
Come out of despair and return to the light -
Your enemy is vanquished, your life is restored;
You wanted to die, but were spared for another.

And another will come, not an eagle of men,
But one who will share all your hopes and desires.
The sunlight is rising to touch you again,
To unfold your petals with a tender longing
And to soften your ice with his own gentle fires.

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