Duel at the Black Gate

"The Orcs made no boast of that duel at the gate; neither do the Elves sing of it, for their sorrow is too deep." — J.R.R. Tolkien "We're going to sing of it anyway." — EvilTyromancer ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A laita te, núro telpina A hlarinyes, morco túle Tenna lumbuleva, harna te Elendil, estel síla Across the wastes of burning plains, Fingolfin rode with wrath untamed His steed, like thunder through the dust, a sacrifice that fate proclaimed His eyes aflame with a light so wild, like fire in the Valar's breath To Angband's gates, he stormed alone, to meet his fate in glory's death The sons of Fëanor, driven, lost, and in the Noldor's grim defeat With shattered hope and fury’s call, he charged alone to Morgoth's feet He sounded his horn with a thunderous cry, the brazen doors replied in turn And called the Dark Lord forth to fight, with a rage that none could spurn Under blackened skies, they clash in fire, A dance of steel, a test of wills In every blow, a hero’s pyre, As blood meets stone, the earth stands still Grond, the Hammer, fell from heights, a force of doom and boundless hate But Fingolfin, swift as a striking hawk, evaded death, defied his fate His silver mail and crystal shield, they glimmered bright against the dark Like a lone star’s defiant light, a guide through shadows cold and stark With every swing of Ringil’s blade, the giant trembled, strength unmade By a King who dared to stand alone, who knew the weight of choices made Seven wounds he dealt that night, seven cries rang out in pain As Angband’s host looked on in fright, they fell to earth like sudden rain Under blackened skies, they clash in fire, A dance of steel, a test of wills In every blow, a hero’s pyre, As blood meets stone, the earth stands still The ground it cracked and groaned beneath, the weight of iron and elven might Three times he rose with shattered breath, a final stand against the night Under blackened skies, they clash in fire, A dance of steel, a test of wills In every blow, a hero’s pyre, As blood meets stone, the earth stands still The ground gave way to pits of grief, beneath Morgoth’s iron tread Yet still the Elven King arose, though wounds ran black, his courage bled With one last cry, he swung his blade, and hewed the dark lord’s wicked heel The blood poured forth, a burning shade, a mark no time could ever heal Now Morgoth halted, forever marred, the scars bore more than mortal pain And Fingolfin, broken, lay in peace, his spirit free from earth’s domain The eagles soared on winds divine, and Thorondor swept from peaks so high To bear him to his final rest, beneath the everlasting sky Under blackened skies, they clash in fire, A dance of steel, a test of wills In every blow, a hero’s pyre, As blood meets stone, the earth stands still Now on the mound where Fingolfin lies, no orc shall ever tread in pride For there the memory of his stand remains, a tale forever glorified A scar upon the blackened earth, a legacy that time cannot erase The King who faced the darkest might, who fought and fell with fearless grace The eagles soared on winds divine, and Thorondor swept from peaks so high To bear him to his final rest, beneath the everlasting sky.