The Last March of the Elves

*This is set in Lord of the Rings universe, from the point of view of an elf marching to Helm's Deep. (The Two Towers movie? Anyone? XD)

On we march, forward,
Across glittering streams,
Over snow-peaked mountains,
Through sunlit meadows,
Our horns of war sounding.

On we march, away,
From all that is familiar and safe,
Leaving behind our beloved Rivendell;
Echoes of children's laughter fading,
Bidding us one final farewell.

On we march, towards
Chaos, terror, and bloodshed,
Our doom, our irrevocable fate;
On into the realms of men,
Knowing that only death awaits.

Yet on we march, still,
To the aid of besieged Rohan,
Where together elves and men shall stand,
To battle the vile creatures of darkness
And defend the people of this land.

For too long have our races been divided,
Too long have we watched and waited;
Now, the hour has come,
To reforge the kinship that with time had faded.

We march on, soundless
Save for the horn's mournful notes;
Passing over the land as fleeting shadows,
Our journey's end approaching, so close.

And though the tingling fire in our veins,
Calls us home to timeless white shores,
We will remain, and die as mortals,
Each to fall to arrow or sword.

We march on, to our doom,
While what remains of our kin sails into the West.
Alas, that our age of wisdom should fade,
Yet may the coming Age of Men be blest.

The last march of the elder race,
To war, to save Middle Earth.
One last blessing,
For the glory of a new age to come forth.

On we march, the last of the elves,
Forward, soundless, to our doom.