just one more epic poem, this ones on the simirils
[u]Of The Jewels and the Darkening of the West[/u]
There was the day i’the depths of time
Filled with song and gay with rhyme
Before the Jewels, and their luster fine
When in the West the trees did shine.
And then, ere long, of Finwe’s tribe
Came he who had a fiery vibe:
Feanor he, the Noldor smith,
Who would craft the Jewels told of in myth.
Great were they, the Silmarils,
Gems of Light, with their own wills;
And when the work and toil was done
Glad was the heart of Finwe’s son.
But fiery still was Feanor’s heart,
And he trusted no other craft or art
But that of the forge, hot as he,
And the truth of the Valar he could not see.
And lo, there came a darkest of days,
Caused by they who love evil’s ways
And the mighty, bright trunks of Yavanna pure
Were felled to the ground for the hate they did lure.
A council was held at the Ring of Doom,
As Mandos pondered the fate that did loom.
Finwe’s son, discord’s seed
Shared not the Jewels to right the deed.
Yet as they spoke, Evil returned
To snatch the Jewels for which its heart burned,
And Feanor cursed it all as he might
In the dark, the eternal night.
Yavanna wept, the Valar said naught;
They seemed to have lost for what they had fought.
Now Mandos saw a future most violent,
But though his heart cried, he was silent.
nn[Edited on 5/5/2002 by Grondmaster]