Authors Note: This is just a short little poem I wrote about two years ago, after reading The Children of Hurin. It does have spoilers about Turin's sister Urwen, so you've been warned. Enjoy!
And, no, it's not supposed to be in perfect meter.
Treading softly, treading lightly
Danced a maiden young and sprightly.
Lalaith she was called, Laughter in our tongue:
Upon the grass she twirled and sung.
But though fair as an elven lass she was,
Her life was not as long:
For the Evil Breath cut short
The laughter and the song.
Lalaith! Lalaith! Laughter in this house is ended!
And sorrow has begun which shall never be amended!
