Untitled

The unforgiving breathe of air,
Chilled the land to it's core.
A young black haired boy,
Lay broken on the ground.
Violated by the touch of the orcs,
Body torn by their whips.
His body shuddered with every breath,
And silently he whispered to the wind,
For his elven brothers to come.
His name be Aragorn, or Estel,
Or maybe even Strider.
But for now he lay half naked,
Freezing to death,
The flowing blood already frozen.
This is not the first,
Though it will not be the last.




AMFL