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Laer Glorfindel*

The laments were many that they sang of him
At the year´s end in Nan-tathren.
And this is my song and now I will sing
Of Glorfindel the beloved, whose strength
Death to his foe did bring.

The city burned,
Doomed was the Jewel of the Plain.
Fair folk was fleeing - children, women, men
And all hope would have been in vain
Had there not been a secret way
Helping them to escape
In the light of dawning day.

Their way over Tumladen´s plain, that once was green,
Now all veiled by dragons´ mists
Let unseen there pass by the fleeing
And new hope was kindled there
Unnoticed by the enemies´ watchful stares.

Through steep mountains their tiring feet them bore
To find new homes beyond the peaks
From whence they had come in years of yore,
Ere darkness fell, brought by a traitor´s words
Which lead to bloodshedding and drawn swords.

Their march discovered then had been
The Orcs of Morgoth had them seen
Ambushed they were and no hope was there
As the fiery demon did appear.

But fearless, proud and valiant,
To attack one lept, the sword in hand.
The demon howled as sword to hilt
Was clashing through his fiery shield.
His whip was cut, his weapon broke
And the golden-haired words of magic spoke.

"I fear thee not, thou evil beast
That hoped at our lives to feast!
And though I know thou willst have mine
Take it! Take it! I´ll take thine!"

Though mortally wounded, he fought on
With fire blazing around him long
Devouring cloth and hair and flesh.
But at last he bested it,
The beast from hell no victory had.

For both were cast from mountain´s peak
Down it´s sides that there rose steep
From a vast and stony dell -
Into their death the elf and demon fell.

But lo!
There the King of Eagles came,
Holding in talons that now tame
Did grip, the golden-haired, perished now,
As he had borne up long ago
King Fingolfin from Morgoth´s lair
And into the stony mountains bare.

Gently to earth he did the warrior lay
And then with beat of mighty wings did stray
Up into the air again and then away,
Lead Thorondor, Manwe´s eagle´s way.
His people there mourned and buried him,
Their Lord´s body, lithe and slim.
His soul had fled to Mandos´ soon
And tears flew many
Watering flowers upon his tomb
There yellow grew inmidst of stone.

And there he lies ´till world is changed
And no more will he wander here,
But on immortal shores his steps may steer.

And still in our hearts lives on
He, who fell to protect the people of the Singing Stone.
And his name: Glorfindel, a Lord of old, the well beloved one;
He shall forever live in song.


*I am aware that laer means summer in Sindarin, but I chose this title anyway, because there is a possibilty that it also means lay or song.
In the Silmarillion is said that Túrin, after he had been healed from his grief of the slaying of Beleg:

[...] made a song for Beleg, and he named it Laer Cú Beleg, the Song of the Great Bow, singing it aloud heedless of peril.

See? That´s why this story is named Laer Glorfindel, even though Lind Glorfindel or Glîr Glorfindel would have done, too. The meaning is the same...

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