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| And so it was, upon reading the words proclaiming the new Witch-King, |
| The so-called Rebels, frightened, quaked in their mud-stained boots, |
| They laid down Hope and weapons and cast off their cloaks with a fling, |
| For why continue, as they always have? Their faith, this surely refutes. |
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| A train of helpless figures lined the roads to Minas Morgul for miles, |
| Upon arrival, Rebels fell on their knees, showing loyalty loud and clear, |
| The Witch-King of Morgul they would serve, ready to suffer through trials, |
| Though only to come closer to the supposed true god, an eye of fear. |
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| If you believe that, we've got a bridge to Numenor to sell you. |
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| Free Folk of the Middle-Earth! |
| Heed not the foul words written by the Slaves of Mordor! |
| The Music of Eru Iluvatar and the Valar who created the World vibrates |
| still in the hearts of the brave. Our Hope shall never perish. |
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| Never shall we fall before the Master of Lies; it matters not how many of |
| his minions crown themselves as false kings. The greatness they were |
| promised by the Deceiver fails them and leaves them hanging upside down |
| with feet stuck in a noose of rope. |
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| Auta i Lome! Aure Entuluva! |
| Rangers of the Westlands |
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