A Hobbit And A Maid

There she stood in armor…a maid
Defending her king, her face was grave.
No longer called Derhelm but Éowyn.
Hair no longer bound but blowing in the wind.

Alone she stood like a pillar of light
Against the Nazgûl with all her might.
Pity stirred in Merry…
his courage awoke.
The Shire would come to her
aid with a stroke.

No man could kill him, the saying was true
Yet a Hobbit and a maid his power overthrew.
The living undead, now dead would be
The witch-king departed…
Middle-earth freed.