Too late the Black Sword flashes in the gloom,
Too late Turumbar remembers his Doom;
Harsh the is lightning that shatters the sky,
Loud is his long and his anguished cry.
Quickly as rainfall, the blood leaves its mark
Stains tangled fingers, hair silver and dark,
Faces illumined in stark thunder-light -
All stars have vanished, and now comes the night!
Swifter than silence, the elf's heartbeat fades;
Blood stains his fingers; a thousand dark shades
Of murder, betrayal, sorrow and pain,
Drip down his fingers, as steady as rain.
He perceives nothing, no word can he say
As all around him bleeds slowly to gray,
Beleg's face lies as the old-graven stone,
Cold where they lade him, forever alone.
A long journey passes in sorrow and shame;
Through shadows falling, like red-rising flame
The weight of Doom closes over his head
Death lives forever; but all words are said.
They say he was broken; dead winter reigned;
Reforged yet hollow, for something remained,
A shard of his heart that none shall now save,
Buried with Beleg in that shallow grave.
*peeks around laptop at readers* I hope you like this. Please tell me what you think. :) Merry Belated Christmas, Mornen!
~RandomCelt-the-once-more-non-Tolkien (and DarthMihi, her wonderful, currently-Loki-obsessed editor...)