Battle for Minas Tirith

Cadwen's Lament

What kind of Adventure is this?: 


I never expected to cradle you in my arms
With such tenderness and fear.
Your eyes, unopened, your skin
Dark like the man I loved for only a passing night.
Your delicate lips, your hands:
So small and so fragile.
I fear you will crumble at my touch.

They wrap you in blue, my daughter—
My warrior, my fighter
My child.
They wipe away the blood,
The sweat,
The grime that comes from dancing
On the edge of life and death.

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