The golden halls are mourning,
For the fallen riders at helms deep,
Many widows, many orphans,
But only for one the king truly weeps,
Theoden son of Thengel gazes into darkness,
Haunted by the memories of the past,
His flesh and blood slipped from his grasp,
Theoden’s heart longs to join him at last,
A father without a son,
Is like a solider without blade,
Without either both will die,
The echoes of his child’s laughter did fade,

On the death bed of the prince,
Theodred son of Theoden called to his father,
His body broken by goblin blade,
But the Riddermark Prince holds on,
To the hope of his father’s trust in him is made,
His heart breaking for failing in battle,
His heart weeping for failing his land,
His heart dying for failing his father,
He reaches into the sky with his blood drenched hand,

He does not know his fathers reason,
For his reason has been compromised,
Why had he not come to say farewell?
Was the Rohan prince’s question before he died,

No parent should ever bury their child,
The young should live to see the glory days,
But alas Eru had chosen,
For father and son to part their ways,
A time will come for Theoden, king,
On the pelennor fields,
Laying in the arms his niece, his eyes will close,
And so at last his spirit to Mandos he will yield,
Father and son reunited,
Forever side by side in the halls of their forefathers
Meeting each other loving embrace,
Never again will his sons face haunt Theoden,
Never again will Theodred be ashamed by his fall from life’s grace,