Lament for the Mumakil

Talos my sweet, you are sad.
Your comrades are dead
And no one weeps for the friends you had;
Only I lay out their bed.

For no one else can see your plight,
They rejoice the mumakil's fall.
They think it grand to fell your might,
No longer shall you all stand tall.

While I wallow in despair,
They cheer and mock your defeat,
They put on a splendid fair,
Feasting upon your mighty meat.

I try to make them see,
To mourn for ours as well as theirs,
I beg of them on bended knee,
Alas, I get only stares.

Talos my friend, how you fought!
The grandest sight in this whole age,
The wrath of a noble oliphaunt,
A last display of their rage.