I have recently found this poem, by a Major Lovely. I wish to pay tribute to him and to the person he talks about. I hope you will please indulge me. It is dedicated to all those Gondorians who have lost their lives in the defence of their homes and their city. It is a reminded of what we owe them.
Of course it is also a reminder for real life.

It was the night before Christmas
He lived all alone
In a one bedroomed house
made of plaster and stone

I had come down the chimney
with presents to give
and to see just who
in this home did live

I looked all about
A strange sight I did see
No tinsel,no presents
Not even a tree

No stocking by mantle
just boots filled with holes
A newspaper jumper
to keep out the cold

With medals and badges
Awards of all kinds
A sober thought
Came through my mind

For this house was different
It was dark and dreary
I found the home of a soldier
Once I could see clearly

The soldier lay sleeping
Silent, alone
curled up on the floor
in this one bedroomed home

The face was so gentle
the room in such disorder
Not how I pictured, a Gondorian soldier

Was this the Hero
of whom I had read
curled up on a mattress
the floor for a bed

I realized the families
that I saw ere this night
Owed their lives to these soldiers
who were willing to fight

Soon around the world
the children would play
and grown ups would celebrate
a bright Christmas Day

They all enjoyed freedom
each month of the year
because of the soldiers
Like the one lying here

I couldn't help wonder
how many were alone
on a cold Christmas Eve
in a Home, far from home

The very thought
brought a tear to my eye
I dropped to my knees
and started to cry

The soldier awakened
and I heard a rough voice
" Santa dont cry
This life, is my choice

I fought hard for freedom
I didn't ask for more
My life for my country
It was never a chore

The soldier rolled over
and drifted to sleep
I couldn't control it
I continued to weep

I kept watch for hours
so silent and still
and we both sat and shivered
in the cold nights chill

I didn't want to leave
On that cold dark night
This guardian of honour
Who'd been willing to fight

Then the soldier rolled over
with a voice soft and pure
whispered, " Carry on Santa
is Christmas Day, all is secure

One look at my watch
and I knew he was right
" Merry Christmas my friend
and to you all, a good night"

by Major Bruce.W.Lovely

Within Minas Tirith, by Alan Lee

Minas Tirith

A pinnacle in the center of the Pelennor,
White, pure and unblemished,
The White City, standing tall,
Ever the bane of Mordor.
The flag of the Stewards floated in the wind,
At the topmost tower, tall and erect,
A sign of pride, of strength unfailing,
Of battle cries drifting in the wind.
The hall of Denethor, hallowed of places,
Held in reverence by the people,
Grey stone figures carved out with cunning,
In the likenesses of heroes of old.
Minas Anor, beautiful, queenly,
Yet strong and unbreakable as the Rammas Echor.
Minas Tirith, the Tower of Guard,
Beautiful as the setting Sun.

Eldarion

Dawyn

Blood ran like fire
On the slopes of Mount Doom
Evil hung in the air
Like a cloud of gloom

For freedom's sake
The battle to wage
Like white fire shone Narsil
In Elendil's rage

Aiglos was death
In Gil-galad's fair hand
The Black Army fled
Like the sea from the sand

A Foe to vanquish
With none to compare
A hope so desperate
To end in despair

Firm stood Elendil
With Isildur by his side
The spirit of Númenor
Shone in their keen, grey eyes

Before Sauron's might
All hope had fled
Upon the barren ground
Elendil's blood was shed

Narsil's light went out
Broken by its master's fall
Armed with shards like sun rays
Isildur stood proud and tall

Isildur's bane it was later called
But Narsil was its bane
With swift stroke it was cut
O'er Sauron the victory to gain

Sorrow was the battle's end
Though victory had been won
Gil-galad fair had fallen
And Elendil, Númenor's son

And there the story pauses
Though call it not the end
For wrongs were done for glory's sake
That others would seek to mend

Elwing

Upon the knee of Mindollin
The Tower and the Tree
Minas Arnor, it was of old
The Tower of Guard, it came to be

White walls shining like pearls
A beacon in the west
Far the eyes of Minas Tirith looked
From vigilance they had no rest

For the Black Gates of Mordor
Stood ever near at hand
Evil stirred and darkness crept
O’er the shadowed lands

Yet, long were the western realms untouched
Their people free and content
For the freedom bought from Sauron’s rule
The Doorkeepers, their blood was spent

And in a time of darkness
As the Enemy drew nigh
A King arose to lead them
Against the minions of the Eye

At last they were the victors
The Guards that stood the test
Long had been their watch
Through centuries of unrest

The Elves e’er left by western routes
Yet the lands were not forsaken
For glory reigned in Gondor’s hour
With strength and honor unshaken

Elwing

Dol Amroth artist unknown

Dol Amroth

The salt smell of the sea fills the air,
The wind comes whispering along the shore
as I walk alone along the cliff, lost in thought.
I see the town, the harbor too.
but now I turn my back to both,
And return to my house just above the docks.
Ah! Dol Amroth, my home of old,
I see thee still in my mind;
I hear the sea along the shore, see the sailing ships come home.
Ah! Dol Amroth, I will return,
I’ll come back to thee someday;
For there my heart lies ever, no matter how far I may roam.

By Treyan Andune

Faithful Allies on the Pelennor

Battle of pelennor fields by Alan Lee

From the far North/hear proud horns blowing
In the cold wind/see bright manes flowing
On the green fields/red grass is growing.

By the great gates/hear voices crying
In the grim strife/see soldiers dying
Through the green fields/bold Rohan flying.

Onto the battle/fell Angmar riding
Over the stricken/dark Witch-King striding
On the green fields/small hobbit hiding.

Eowyn steadfast/stands guarding the fallen
Merry beside her/heeds his heart’s calling
On the green fields/dark champion falling.

Heron

Gondor

Her Banners high, flapping in the wind.
Her Roads of gold going straight to bend.
Her Fields so green, her sky so blue.
The Grass of her valleys wet with dew.

White City of Men that is heard in song.
The White Tree shining forever and long.
The Walls of its Castles strong as the Land.
The Men standing guard with sword in hand.

There I stand looking up at her with a glare.
The Wind blowing against my hair.
My Mind releived from hurt and toil.
There stands my home, The Land of Gondor.

Wildwind87

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