This, like 'Love Found, Love Lost', is related to the story I am writing
(nearly finished - will be posting soon I hope). The main character
(Fuineth) lost her father when she was 8 and her brother (Túveren) was 14.
This is a ballad of their father's fall.
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The Deaths of Elenros and Beriorgan

In all the tales of yore, long past,
Are the deeds of heroes sung:
How lovers joined or parted were;
Or else the victory was won.
Beyond hope was the Ring destroyed;
And Barad-Dur cast down, o'erthrown.
Then Middle Earth was overjoyed
As King Elessar took his throne.

And yet there are the lesser tales
Of those who lived through such dark times:
Heroes; their deeds unknown, unsung.
Yet knowledge of their valour climbs
With the cries of those they lost
Weeping to Eru of their grief;
Mourning loved ones now cut down,
Whose stay here was too short, too brief.

Of such a tale I now shall sing
Of valour, strength and more besides.
How elf and man together fought;
How side by side they fought and died
To protect one dear to both of them:
A boy, a man-child barely grown,
Who watched his father and his friend
Fight bravely till at last brought down.

One an elf of Doriath.
Tall, noble, fair as all his race,
Now living under Elrond's roof:
Elenros, warrior, full of grace.
The other a man both brave and strong
Beriorgan of the Dúnedain,
That noble people of the North
Whose deeds have won them high acclaim.

A hunt they fancied them that day,
The elf accompanying man and son,
As North they rode, with quivers full,
The hart to find and kill e'er long.
The man and elf had long been friends
Had seen the child grow near a man
And, though still young with much to learn,
They both held hopes for Túveren.

Like his father he was strong,
Already showing skill with blade;
From Elenros learnt to wield a bow,
By what skills a tracker made.
Both elf and Dúnedan him taught
The best of all their many skills.
They nurtured him and loved him dear
While protecting him from evil ills.

But this day of dark forebode
Little did they ken their fate:
That even they, two warriors bold,
Could not protect him nor abate
The ire, when roused, of evil orc;
Nor stop the biting blade of steel
Nor arrows fell all tipped with black.
The boy knew loss then: all too real.

A glade they entered, green and bright,
Still near the beginning of their ride
When in the shadows round about
A sudden glint of steel espied.
"Get down!" Elenros shouted out.
The three dismounted from their steeds.
As blades were drawn by man and boy
Elenros looked towards the trees.

'Yrch' and a muttered curse
Were all that then the elf-lord said.
Two arrows into the shadows launched
And two yrch fell down dead.
The three now backed toward some rocks
That were near them to one side
And even as they backed away
Their frightened horses bucked and shied.

As their horses fled in terror great
The orcs came forward snarling fierce;
But one by one now falling down
As Elenros' arrows pierced
Each fell and grizzled, blackened neck.
The man, now with a mighty roar,
Set upon them with his blade
And three more, dead, fell to the floor.

Túveren was scared but still
His sword was strong within his grasp;
He moved to stand beside them both.
His father saw him. With a gasp
He urged his son to now fall back
And behind them both to stand;
E'en as he spoke another yrch fell
Caught by the swordblade in his hand.

Túveren was wroth as elf
Now repeated the same plea.
"But I am strong enough," he cried
"To stand and fight these foes with thee."
But answer none their came for both
Were busy killing evil beast:
The hart, the ride, all now forgot -
Such pastime mattered not the least;

'Protect the boy' their only thought
As both the warriors slew and maimed.
But e'en as Túveren his anger cried,
Against their warning loud complained,
An arrow pierced his father's neck.
The boy in shock now cried out loud;
Saw his father on his knees
His once strong back by pain now bowed.

A hand he held toward his son
E'n as his blood around him spilt;
His neck was torn, his life all spent;
By orcish arrow he now lay killed.
Elenros heard his friend cry out,
The boy beside his father weep,
But still he fought the yrch horde
Though they cut him sore and deep.

E'en as he brought the last one down
He fell, run through with orcish knife;
His blood he spilled upon the ground
And so at last gave up his life.
The boy knelt there on the earth,
Holding first his father dear
As he begged him not to die;
Cried to him his grief and fear.

But his father answer'd not;
Nor the elf, who now was held
By this one who loved him dear,
Yet like a mighty oak lay felled.
The boy was covered with their blood:
The elf's and his father's own.
He felt his heart about to break;
Fell where he was into a swoon.

The horses, scared by the orcs,
Riderless returned at last
To Elrond's Halls. The alar'm was raised
And sent to find them riders fast.
The Lord's own son, Elladan,
Found the boy, now close to death;
Bloodied from head to toe he was,
His face now pale and short his breath.

The elf looked at the dreadful scene.
Saw the two now fallen there
And cried, "Ai Beriorgan, my friend!
Ai Elenros, elf-lord fair!
What fate is this? What loss indeed!
That two as you should be laid low
Protecting Túveren still a boy!
Who will be his guidance now?"

And long he wept and grieved their loss
Till he riding brought them home
The boy, the Dúnedan and elf:
He searched for three and found but one.
That one became a warrior bold,
Though for the two his grief was long;
Yet their bravery is fore'er preserved
In this my tale of deeds well done.