Editing Fifth Poem from Malek


Argent the armour shone in the sun;

The grim lord grinned at its dazzling display.

A strong man stood with mighty mace;

Let fly such force the mace head burst.

The blows fell thick;

it still shone silver

without scratch or nick.


‘Such magnificent mail,' said that master of Drow

'Is well worth winning; the price I pay

'A pittance so paltry it beggars the brain.'

'Come! The stone is yours; then let us make mirth

'With as splendid a feast

as ever was served

in West or in East.


High that hall, and wide-spread its walls

Yet filled overflowing: all manner of men

Were gathered together with bounty before them,

Washing the wine down from flowing flagons.

Above all the rest

the Drow sat 

their grim host's guest. 


Unglak cracked jokes, laughing loud,

But his stare often strayed to the distant doors.

Fèhaglin fidgeted, her hasty hands

Flickering, fluttering with hummingbird's hovering.

Nearby, gleaming bright

Sarnim lay, glistening

with roseate light


At length it was late; the brands burning low

Spat and sputtered with flickering flames.

Some now slept, but many more

Muttered, murmured, drunk and dazed.

Then, her voice strong

Fèhaglin offered

to sing them a song.


Silence struck, and in that instant

Orodruin called from his flute a soothing song

That softly sounded through the eery air

Like a spirit singing of light and life

Undying over mortal lands

which it blew past crying.


Unglak followed with a song like the sea

Soothing yet surging as wild as the waves,

Echoing endlessly, rhythmically rocking,

Roaring, resounding, repeating, returning,

Foaming floods whose constant dashings,

wash all away

with lullaby crashings.


Heavy heads hung, dull eyes drooped,

Then one by one each dim face fell.

And last like a leaf the tall lord's gaze

Dropped faint and frail to face the floor.

Some snoring mutters

then all was still

as the last torch sputtered.