Fingolfin was an Elven King

Mighty in deed and bold

High King of the Noldor

Son of Finwe, his father

And Feanor was his half-brother

To him was given beauty and wisdom

To Feanor was given pow’r, might and craft

To lament of his death the elves do not sing

For sorrow, mighty, it brings

In the far north

Was the realm of Morgoth

The Enemy

‘Neath the Mountains of Iron

In That frozen land

The Enemy dwelt in the

Fortress of Angband

It’s gates by Thangorodrim, encompassed

When the news came to Fingolfin

Of the defeat of Feanor’s sons

Fair Thargelion despoiled

And Dorthonion lost

By the vile deeds of the Host

Of Thangorodrim

And the sons of Finarfin, overthrown

From Hithlum

He sped upon Rochallor

His mount, rode forth alone

And none could restrain him

Over Dor-nu-fauglith he passed

Filled with great wrath

To behold his face

The mightest of the Fair Race

Onlookers would swear, he was Orome

For his eyes shone like a Vala’s

By Angband’s gates he came at last

Put horn to lips and the sound issued, rent

Across the firmament

With great cry challenged Morgoth to mortal combat

His voice bright and keen

Did to Morgoth

A strange thing seen,

Now The Enemy knew fear

“Craven and Lord of Slaves thou art are

Come thither out and face me.”

Morgoth could now not deny

And let Fingolfin go un-punished

Now Morgoth came forth from his underground throne

And rumour of his passing was like thunder

He issued forth like a tower

And stood all clad in black armour

His vast shield, was the girth of a thunder cloud

And Iron Crowned was he

The shield, sable un-blazoned

Loomed over Finglofin like a stormcloud

But Fingolfin gleamed

Like a star shimmering

For his mail was overlaid with true silver*

Deepest blue his shield, with crystal beset

And Ringil, his sword like ice did a-glitter

Morgoth, with a flurry, held aloft

Grond,

Hammer of the Underworld

Down it sped like thunder

Fingolfin sprang aside

And in the ground, Grond, a mighty pit did rent

Whence smokes and fires darted

Many times that day

Morgoth to smite did essay

But

Each time away Fingolfin did leap

As lightening shoots from under the stormcloud

With wounds, seven in number

To Morgoth he did smote

And with anguish Morgoth did cry

The hosts of Morgoth on their faces did lie

When their Lord was wounded

Finally at last Fingolfin was spent

The ground about him was sorely rent

Thrice to the ground

On his mighty knees

He fell

And thrice to his feet he arose

Bore up broken shield and stricken helm

But at last Morgoth bore down the mountainous shield

The earth all about him, broken and rent

Fingolfin, backward he did stumble

With a mighty foot, the wieght of which was as a hill

On the neck of Fingolfin was layed

But at last with a desparate stroke

The foot of Morgoth, with Ringil he did smote

And the blood gushed forth black with smoke

Ever since that day Morgoth, halted of foot, he did sway.