The days were autumn crisp, and dry
for Orcs, overwhelming, and treacherous ,
and though evil was held nigh,
Fingolfin's foe's arm grew ever more treacherous.

Whence all still was far and green,
and whence magic retained its Esoteric proproties
in the rivers fair and keen
King Fingolfin rode with serendipity to his Death to be.

The crowds began a wave of econiums,
and the lords and nobles followed him,
the Horse he rode followed him to his pandemonium's,
and yet the lords unknowingly followed at their whim.

This cheer and applaud soon became evanescent,
while he lead himself to his descent,
and soon the lords began to diffuse,
so no one would be there to see the news.

He wore noon-tide colored armor, that resembled bliss,
his heart he bore in penumbra and in shadow,
For his ride would be his last, and he would miss
this world he lived in; this lovely meadow.

Village by Village he rode by,
in his kingdom most to the western sky,
he clad in silver and gold armor rode
to his doom and to Mandos' abode..

And as he approached his high and white walls,
he moaned in doubt as though a shadow falls,
and he rode on, in desperation
to defeat Morgoth, the dark lord, and Evil's cause of preservation.

Over the deserts of Angfuliath
he traveled like a wounded moth,
and o'er leagues and leagues he reached the place
Of Morgoth's throne, where lied his mace..

Fingolfin, now weary, came up to Morgoth's gates,
and spoke, in Gloom, and Woe:
Come! Morgoth! Coward! Naive fool! Raven crow of Mandos' halls! Thrall of the Valar! I challenge you! Coward! Come forth and do battle with me! I challenge ye!

And Morgoth, would of otherwise,
stayed in his fortress, and send his spies,
but he would not be a coward
in front of his servants and high fortresses towered.

And so Morgoth strode forth as a mountain tall
from his cavernous throne in a fire-illumined hall,
and he opened the gates to his home
and came out in one color, of Darkness chrome.

and Fingolfin spoke in fear and rage
"Coward! Liar! Thief!" hoping for a effect of acrimony,
But Morgoth laughed, and he said a Non Sequtuir,
"You are brave, but a fool, and you shall be trodden into the ground by my hammer"

and that was the only meeting of them,
and began the fight for light, and for that gem
that shone upon his shadowed face
and resembled his former grace..

Morgoth strong and tall as a mountain
began to pour forth his strength like a fountain
into his hands to swing Grond,
and pound Fingolfin 'till he was gone,

But Fingolfin, an Elf was quick,
and ran and dodged this flick
of a crater sized tool so cruel
that left a crater sized hole that could beguile

And every time he dodged this mighty weapon
he slashed Morgoth's ankles with Orcist's point sharpened
and left Morgoth with blood that began to lengthen,
and every time he fell, and yet left him wounded.

Tireless would Fingolfin seem,
as light as air and fast as dream,
but in time he was struck with weariness
and marked the end of his gracefulness,

And Morgoth seeing this, with his hammer smote him three
strikes of mountains heavy and free
and in the end it killed him before he could flee
and there Morgoth said "So mote it be!"