The Morgul-blade


Ashes and dust
swirl with flaming sparks.
An anvil of evil
to forge a deadly blade.
Iron strength to bend
the glowing steel.
By the strokes of the hammer
I am formed.
A blade of power
set with illusive runes.
A twisted hilt
for the grasp of death.
Morgoth's weapon
given to a slave.
He will carry me
until he finds the One.
I am drawn,
no longer concealed
beneath this shroud.
Pale as the hand that wields me
cold light to bring terror.
A faint glimmer
in the living world-
In the twilight I flicker
as if wrought of flame.
I am feared.
Yet greater power still
resists.
A stronger spirit dwells
within his form.
He will not yield.
I am plunged.
Frozen steel to break
his will.
He feels my touch
of ice.
I feel his flesh torn
as my point slides
toward his heart.
The hand that wields me twists-
My tip is broken.
It shall remain,
this shard of death,
though I will fade.
I am withdrawn.
Let dawn take me,
Ashes and dust
vanishing in the fitful wind.
My work is done.

- Elvellon Ringsbane