The Mask of Gil-Galad

In the midst of the marshes

Where the Dead lie unwaking

Safe are the slumbers of Orcs and Elves

Where Men fell in their legions

As ere the World's breaking

In the midst for them all is the Mask of Gil-Galad

Fell here a King

Of the Noble Kindred

Spear by his hand and a song on his lips

By Death from the

Deathless Folk now sundered

Yet still wears a crown does the Mask of Gil-Galad

Eyes watch the stars

That see no longer

Sings still the mouth whose voice is slain

Withered are sinews yet,

To look out, the stronger

As lies there in glory the Mask of Gil-Galad

Seek not the road

Through the misty Marshes!

Paths there are many yet one only is true

And travelers chancing this road

In their marches

Behold in horror the Mask of Gil-Galad

Cross Sundering Seas

His shade yet awaits

And counts in ages its tale of years

It rues now the curse

And the Battle it hates

Where it laid down the Form and the Mask of Gil-Galad