The Silmarils

DarkElf at the Ending of the First Age

Neither more gold than silver
They do not so much glow as breathe light
A radiance that both warmth and chill confer
A beautiful and terrible sight

Wroght by Fëanor, the most gifted Smith of the Noldo host
Containing the essence of the luminous Two Trees
Blessed by the Valier who loved them most
To become treasured over mortal majesties

Captured, they adorned the crown of Bauglir
Though their light pained His creatures,
Burned His hands, and bound Him with fear
That they would be reclaimed by their rightful keepers

The mortal hand of Beren held one
And uncorrupted kept in the belly of Carcharoth
Though it burned that mad beast like a small glowing sun
Before dying, was returned that hand and crystal to Camlost

Is not Fëanor to thank for the eviction of Morgoth?
Keeping the Silmarils did leave His heart bare
As it shortened the duration of Beren and Tinuviel's troth
Slaying Light and Darkness in equal share

All the blood spilled and deeds gone awry
Justice is a cold and cruel business

Their ending as fitting as their creation-birth
Starbound, Earthbound, Swallowed by the Sea
Legends living past mortal memory on earth
Their likeness never again perhaps we shall see.

- Lothithil