Cold

Inspired by the events at Weathertop in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Frodo's point of view.

I feel my fingers growing numb

As the evil blackness comes

My heart it chills with listless fright

A shriek pierces the endless night

My tongue is thick, my eyes are dull

Dark whispers taint the silent lull

They feed me lies of satisfaction

Blind with fear, I choose my action

An instrument of evil, a secret long hidden

A beautiful temptation, a fruit forbidden

But an oppressive burden I have to bear

Now with folly I choose to wear

Naked in the dark I stand

Evil embodied upon my hand

Now I see them, men concealed

With helms of silver and swords of steel

The veil is lifted; they see me now

Beads of sweat form on my brow

I hide this evil from their sight

In this, their malice I ignite

Cold cuts through me like a knife

A venom slowly drawing life

First a moan, then a wail

I scream, but to no avail

My poisoned mind soon departs

As icy tendrils grasp my heart

Though dread grips my cold, dead fingers

The warmth of a hand soon there lingers

March 20, 2007