Hill and stone, stone and hill

WARNING: this is not a completed poem so please let me know how I can continue it without getting off the main idea.

Under hill and stone, stone and hill, we march to war and to war we march against the evil king of Ture.
An ancient tunnel under hill and stone, stone and hill with many sounds of the dead echoing through its dark confines.
I now sea the light bright as day at the end of this tunnel under hill and stone, and hear the enemy warriors with their fierce war cries above stone and hill.
I prepare myself to join battle against them defying death's stony grip.
My friends and comrades falling, falling into a dark shroud, stony death under the hill of stone, at the hands of our enemies.
I fight with valor and fear on my side, to remain above hill and stone.
I fight, fight for life, king and country finally above hill and stone.