He was the fire
Devouring flame
Wine until bottom
And pain of fame
He was my father
His anger like flood
We sealed our Oath
In fire and blood
The flame extinguished
By Oath we're still bound
Through tears and pain
No rest to be found
The blood on my hands
And my hand in chains
What was it for
When nothing remains?
The Light we sought, burns
So close, yet so far
We are not worthy
To touch a star
Burning flame, take me
And clean the stain
Take the cursed Jewel
And end my pain!
In fire it started
In fire it ends
Just like my father
The fire in my veins
Turgon
My brother is gone.
The deafening clashes and shrieks of battle dim and blur together in my ears as I stand, rooted, in the frenzy, staring at the swirling clouds of flame and dust where his banner fell. Through the haze of my sorrow, it hits me like a kick to the stomach that with his passing, and no heir to his line, I have in the space of a few seconds become the High King of our people. I am the last of Nolofinwë's children, and I am alone, as is my beloved Gondolin; and we both will be discovered and destroyed as surely as will all the realms of the Eldar in Middle Earth.
I am pulled from my stupor by
Hi everyone, I've started a Tolkien discussion page on FB www.facebook.com/groups/394231… and invite you all to join - we'll discuss all sorts of things about his work and I would love you guys to showcase your art there too. I am in no way trying to compete, but rather supplement this group. Please have a look at Talking Tolkien.