Downfallen, Yet Standing

At the Pass did we band,
5,000 strong to take a stand.
The Fallen's Host, a Shadow Tide,
Three hundred thousand, dark and wide.

Through the dark, they marched so slow,
Six months of creeping, grim, and low.
Then at the Pass where the winds did blow,
The Elves and men, their courage did glow.

The sky wept from an early Spring,
With freezing rain, the mountains ring.
Both sides were cold and numb,
Yet still came the sound of drums.

"Hold Fast the Pass!" Auradir spoke,
"Let all them fall beneath your stroke!"
Five thousand brave, by oath awoke,
A final stand, for all their folk.

Through the endless night, they fought as one,
They could not break until they saw the sun.
Least their families lying await,
Would not have their time to evacuate.

The morning broke with storms anew,
The rain-swept pass, a muddy hue,
Yet still they held, these valient few,
Their purpose clear, their spirit true.

Four thousand dead, upon the field,
A bloody price, for lives concealed.
A hundred foes for every one,
Their final charge was beneath the sun.

The path lay open, now revealed,
Mauibon's fate, no longer sealed.
Each survivor frought with new understanding,
They were Downfaalen, Yet Still Standing.