Grey eyes sharply gazing
Into the darkness
Of nothingness

Fiercely gazing on her foe
Raising her shield
Her eyes veiled

Eowyn, Eomund’s daughter
Released from secrecy
Golden her hair blows freely

Lifting her sword unsheathed
Letting it fall swiftly
On the fell beast

Slaying the evil creature
It lies
Never to rise

Up from the ruin of his steed
The Nazgul faces her
Raising his mace upward

Swinging it round
Into her shield
Shattering it far a field

She falls to her knees
The Nazgul rises
And looks on her with malice

Raising his mace
Once more
He stumbles forward

With sharp pain
Behind his knee
He screams

Merry the Hobbit
Esquire of Rohan
Dealt the blow

Lifting her sword
Once more aloft
Drives it beneath his crown

The Nazgul falls
A shrieking cry
Arises and dies

Black and empty
His mantle is shapeless
Slain the Nazgul lays