The King has fallen on the field,
He never more his sword will wield.
His valiant men, around him slain.
Only Dernhelm heart sustains,
There still he stands, most faithful knight,
Showing not a sign of fright.
On wing’d beast rides the nazgûl king,
Above the young knight towering,
A black-clad shadow, crowned with steel.
Still no terror Dernhelm feels.
He stands before the dreaded lord,
Taunts him and then draws his sword.
His helm he throws and hair of gold
Now flows around a maiden bold.
Upon the battlefield she stands
With her sword held in her hands,
Fairest maiden, fearing naught,
Countering the beast’s onslaught.
She with a swift stroke kills the beast
And makes the nazgûl most displeased:
Steedless now he her must face.
Upon her he lets fall his mace,
The great black weapon that he wields,
Breaks her arm and shatters shield.
But when he tries to strike again
He suddenly cries out in pain.
A hobbit stabs him from behind,
The maiden surely doesn’t mind.
Struggling up she drives her sword
And with her last strength kills the lord.