Nirnead Arneodiad
If you've never read The Sil or the Lost Tales or anything you won't be able to read into this, but you should still be able to understand it. And upon seeing the post, the caesuras in the lines don't translate well, apparently, so they're not there.
Title: The Fifth Battle
Word Count: 381
A/N: An old-English poem based on Tolkien's mythology, specifically the beginning of Hurin's imprisionment by Morgoth, as told in The Sil and The Lays.
Disclaimer: This poem is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.R.R. Tolkien. No copyright infringement is intended.
THE FIFTH BATTLE
Morgoth, master of the fates of Arda,
made war on many, men and elves,
thinking to rule the races of the world.
The battle began with Balrogs and flame,
(ended in tears unnumbered, uncounted)
made stronger by the might of Morgoth.
One man survived, the strongest of men,
Húrin Thalion of the land of Hilthum.
With courage he stood, fled not in fear,
fought with a valor unfitting of men.
The hosts of Hell soon hindered his hand
but still he fought on, black with blood.
To prove his power and his prestige
Morgoth wished to master the Elves,
to sack their city, the secret Gondolin,
made strong and managed by Turgon the King.
Now Turgon in battle with a turn of fate
escaped the slaughter wholly unscathed
with a goodly host of his hardy people.
Húrin, who helped with their flight,
was captured at last, chained and fettered.
Brought before Morgoth beneath the mountains
in secret, shadowed, stood Húrin Thalion
with eyes of fire, fear forgotten.
The banter of Morgoth unbridled, bribed
the heir of Hísilómë with hope and happy words
of glory and greatness, gold beyond measure
to let loose the secret of Turgon’s lair,
hidden in the mountains with the mastery of old.
Húrin, undaunted, defying the Dark Lord,
twisting his words to discover the truth,
held fast to his friends, upholding his honor.
Then threatened with torture, torment intolerable,
stood Húrin still strong, unable to be swayed.
Morgoth, in madness, knowing his might
and the weaker will of the race of man
sought stronger ways to sway the prince
or else punish him for his pride.
Thrust to the top of Thangorodrim,
the misty mountains above Beleriand,
Húrin was chained to a chair of stone,
remade with mighty sight to view in mourning
the cursed occurrences contained to his kin.
Túrin, his son, gained much but grieved
for friends and family lost to fate.
He married and murdered and sired a child
fey before birth.
So the children of Húrin,
wound in woe sought death before their time.
Húrin watched all, weary, unblinking,
the fate that befell his forsaken family
but failed to fulfill the fancy of Morgoth.
Released before death, Húrin roamed the land,
Searching for shards of his shattered life,
Finding naught but fleeting shadows.
Title: The Fifth Battle
Word Count: 381
A/N: An old-English poem based on Tolkien's mythology, specifically the beginning of Hurin's imprisionment by Morgoth, as told in The Sil and The Lays.
Disclaimer: This poem is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.R.R. Tolkien. No copyright infringement is intended.
THE FIFTH BATTLE
Morgoth, master of the fates of Arda,
made war on many, men and elves,
thinking to rule the races of the world.
The battle began with Balrogs and flame,
(ended in tears unnumbered, uncounted)
made stronger by the might of Morgoth.
One man survived, the strongest of men,
Húrin Thalion of the land of Hilthum.
With courage he stood, fled not in fear,
fought with a valor unfitting of men.
The hosts of Hell soon hindered his hand
but still he fought on, black with blood.
To prove his power and his prestige
Morgoth wished to master the Elves,
to sack their city, the secret Gondolin,
made strong and managed by Turgon the King.
Now Turgon in battle with a turn of fate
escaped the slaughter wholly unscathed
with a goodly host of his hardy people.
Húrin, who helped with their flight,
was captured at last, chained and fettered.
Brought before Morgoth beneath the mountains
in secret, shadowed, stood Húrin Thalion
with eyes of fire, fear forgotten.
The banter of Morgoth unbridled, bribed
the heir of Hísilómë with hope and happy words
of glory and greatness, gold beyond measure
to let loose the secret of Turgon’s lair,
hidden in the mountains with the mastery of old.
Húrin, undaunted, defying the Dark Lord,
twisting his words to discover the truth,
held fast to his friends, upholding his honor.
Then threatened with torture, torment intolerable,
stood Húrin still strong, unable to be swayed.
Morgoth, in madness, knowing his might
and the weaker will of the race of man
sought stronger ways to sway the prince
or else punish him for his pride.
Thrust to the top of Thangorodrim,
the misty mountains above Beleriand,
Húrin was chained to a chair of stone,
remade with mighty sight to view in mourning
the cursed occurrences contained to his kin.
Túrin, his son, gained much but grieved
for friends and family lost to fate.
He married and murdered and sired a child
fey before birth.
So the children of Húrin,
wound in woe sought death before their time.
Húrin watched all, weary, unblinking,
the fate that befell his forsaken family
but failed to fulfill the fancy of Morgoth.
Released before death, Húrin roamed the land,
Searching for shards of his shattered life,
Finding naught but fleeting shadows.