Drums in the Deep

In different years, in a war of old,

A tale of triumph and defeat is told.

The fellowship, turned away from snow,

Chose a different path, through Moria to go.

In blackest night, in halls of stone,

They all passed through, as yet alone,

But in blackest night, in halls of gloom,

Lay yet an elder, forgotten doom.

The Ringbearer felt heavy and filled with despair

Even as the whole party ascended a stair.

A strange sense of foreboding took hold of him when

He heard a strange noise, but he told no one then.

This noise Frodo heard was an army of orcs,

Waiting for instructions from their leader…

DOOM, BOOM, DOOM!

The great drums were sounded from pits to floors,

The Fellowship trapped in a room with two doors.

Everyone fought, and Gandalf made sure

That the doors were kept shut-

DOOM, BOOM, DOOM!

A fire was coming, a huge monstrous light,

Whose powers cast Gandalf back into the night.

Our heroes fled swiftly from hall to hall

‘Till they came to a bridge where one would fall.

The leader of orcs, a great Balrog, came forth,

With furled, smoky wings and a fiery torch.

This torch was a whip, a great whip of fire,

And Gandalf, much weakened, would fight this beast dire.

DOOM, BOOM, DOOM!

The great wizard Gandalf, with staff and sword,

On the perilous bridge fought this fiery lord.

He slammed his staff down with a bright flash of light

And cast the vile creature down into the night.

The Balrog fell, but it cast out its whip,

And Gandalf, pulled downward, hung onto the lip.

“Fly, you fools,” he cried as he fell-

With the murderous Balrog, Gandalf went down as well.

DOOM, BOOM, DOOM!

The fellowship ran, and, led by Aragorn,

They raced out of Moria, to light and to mourn.

They would never forget that dark day in the mines,

DOOM, BOOM, DOOM!

Drums in the deep.