OK folks I wrote this in an idle moment when it was raining and I had a day off work. I am no poet! But I wanted to embrace the culture of the Sword that Middle Earth represents. See what you think. At least it's short, and so relatively painless.
Broken, but not Bowed, A tribute to Narsil, before the renewal.
Telchar wrought me first in deeps of time,
His craft of all the Naugrim most renowned.
Great Elven lords I served in Thingol's realm,
Ere to the hand I came of king, uncrowned.
With light of sun and moon I shone undimmed,
Through age-long wars I clove, my duty filled.
Then Elf-friend took me up and we stood tall,
From Númenor we sailed before the fall.
On Battle Plain before black gates we fought,
Long hope I kindled, hearts I set alight.
To bring my lord Elendil through his foes,
With fire I burned the flesh of Evil's might.
But at the last in victory we fell,
Now broken I lay vanquished on the ground.
Isildur took my hilt with jagged steel,
And cut the Ring of rings from Sauron's hand.
In Imladris my shards long years have dwelt,
But cherished still my flame burns none the less.
'Til one should come with skill to match my fame,
and hands most fell my newforged blade caress.