Poem by Lorraine Poulter

Remember

By Lorraine Poulter Copyright 2015

Published in "Tales From the White Horse" 2015

He looked at me and I felt a memory stir.

I knew that man, smart in his army regalia, a hero.

I knew him of old.

Old as in another place, another time, another war.

What was he doing here?

My stomach lurched as I recalled that day, that war,

When we and a thousand, thousand others stood

   Against the evil that threatened Middle Earth.

We fought side by side, ranks behind and before, and 

   Gave our allegiance to those who would lead us,

To the Wood Elves, to Legolas

To the dwarves, to Gimli,

To those who carried magic at their fingertips, to Gandalf

We came in our thousands in answer to the lighted beacons of Gondor,

We, the unknown, the many.

I looked into the face of this much decorated soldier

    and recalled that day.

When as younger men we served under the leadership of

    Aragorm, the Ranger of Middle Earth, usurped heir to the throne of Gondor.

I recalled that pale youthful face terrified in the face of

     Such vast numbers of Orcs.

And how we trembled at the overwhelming sight of

     Them surging towards us.

Sauron had summoned every foul creature to his side

     And they had answered.

I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder for the briefest moment.

He neither looked at me nor responded.

His eyes were fixed beyond his bow to the impossible

    numbers who were better trained, better armed, better shielded.

My own fear filled my nostrils and I knew those Orcs

Would thrive on the scent.

We knew we were out numbered many times over.

We knew that on that day we faced certain death.

That same day when the power of wizards diminished

Under the Great Eye of Sauron.

The Great White Wizard rendered powerless without his magic.

Astride his white horse Gandalf rode into the battle as one of us, 

His staff of magic, now a staff of anger.

The battle horn of the Orcs summoned a further advance.

And advance they did.

The air riven with dust, the woodlands bereft of trees, birds long gone.

A sight that haunts my dreams to this day. The swoosh of a thousand arrows released all at once,

Heralding the small hope of the demise of another clutch of Orcs.

The world was filled with the clash of swords, the pained screams of the dying and fallen.

But you, young sir, with your eyes fixed on me in my decrepit old age,

I saw you die.

I saw the sword pierce your heart, and cried out to you as  you fell.

I saw the light of mortality fade from your eyes and watched you fade into nothingness.

Yet, many, many years later, here you stand.

As youthful as they day you died.

Your face shaved and polished, your shoulders proud and straight.

And you are looking at me with the same wonderment in your eyes as I look at you.

Was that the light of recognition in your eye for an old comrade?

Or do I see before me the unlocked memory from centuries past?

Lorraine Poulter Copyrighted 2015