At Osgiliath's door

Young prince, for father's wish
to retake Osgiliath, called.
And answered did they,
his eored.

And onwards they rode,
'pon swift steeds
to swifter death.
At the walls of the fell city.

And even as their bodies fell
to poisoned arrows and blade.
They gave thanks to their lord
who would rather die with them.

Than turn and run,
back to bitter father's scorn.
And his brave,dead brother
not yet cold in the ground.

And they fell, his brave eored.
To pass into smoke and memory.
Through the blood and darkness,
to the great plains of their fathers.

Where they stand proud
and look their kin in the eyes.
And say, " Aye, I did die.
But he is not dead yet.
Our prince still lives,
and thus our duty we have served well.
Make of it, what you will.
We ask now,
for our rightful rest."