Disclaimer and Notes:  This poetry is not mine.  It belongs to Turin Turumbar, who spoke it originally in Sindarin and was thereafter recorded in the selfsame language.  I have merely translated it into English and rearranged words to allow it to follow a classic rhyme scheme.

I now share with you Turin's Tortured Beleg Poems – his compositions shortly after killing his best friend in a blind frenzy.  May we remember the pain of Turin's Curse forevermore.

I. Death

The sweat breaks on his brow;

His fingers clutch my hair.

The last breath knows he now;

He falls thus to Death's snare.

Ai, curséd hand!  So cruel!

His blood upon this blade!

My friend, this fairest jewel

To silver death betrayed!

The Curse, my Lord, forever rules this hand.

To death I go!  Let me now leave this land.

II. Sword

The Strongbow lays his hand now to the sword,

And on that day his curse is drawn and sealed.

Anglachel forged with starlight has no lord;

But to the Lady, Beleg would not yield.

And into death delivered the mighty weapon

The greatest Elf to ever draw the bow.

Curse and Curse again, birthing a Son—

Betrayal was beget, and horror did it sow.

Foul instrument, by foul side now you lay!

Iron of Death shall you be called forever from this day!

III. Bow

He draws the fletching to his cheek and waits.

The fingers do not twitch, nor elbow tremble.

Cuthalion he is called not for naught.

He waits now for his target to draw nigh.

IV. Lament

Swift are thine arrows, true is thy aim!

Ah my friend, Beleg the Strongbow!

But truer than thy bow is thy friendship;

Greater than thy strength is thy word!

Thou hast granted me more than

I ever could hope to deserve, and thou

Hast been repaid by mine cruel curse!

Alas my bloodline.  Alas thy loyalty!

It should not have been as it was.

Long after my mortal death should thee

Have haunted these fair woods.

Long should thine aim have laid to rest

The forces of the Darkest One!

But by my hand is hard Fate aided.

Rest thee now in lands beyond these shores.

Rest and be comforted; Beleg, my friend; the Strongbow.

Fin

*The Lady is Melian, who predicted that the sword Anglachel would betray Beleg.

*Cuthalion means Strongbow.

More traditional disclaimer: Turin and Beleg are both the property of Tolkien Estates and whomever they have granted a license.  This humble writer is not among them.  I am making no profit from this story; please do not sue me.

In the future there may be another few poems added to this piece.

Feedback always appreciated.

~~Vikki