The Rain of Wrath


DarkElf on the War of Wrath:
The Rain of Wrath

On a river of pure silver light
Sails furled along the gleaming spars
Oars flashing, her speed is marvelous
Vingilot cleaves the storm of clouds
And the lantern on her prow is a spear of righteousness
Eärendil's hand is on the rudder
His song is in our ears
He streaks across the sky
A meteor; a loosed arrow
He calls Ancalagon to face him

It is as if Day and Night are at war over our heads
The dragon's fumes are black as covetous greed
But they are thinned and shattered
Shredded like his mighty vanes
Torn by the talons of the heart of the wind
And Eärendil does not founder
The smokes blacken not those sails
Nor claws score that mighty hull
Even when the despairing fell-beast hurl themselves at him in fiery ruin
They cannot sully his radiance
The living light of the Silmaril soars untainted through the heavens

The sky is overflowing
The Eagles of Manwë are lions in the sky
With beak and talons sharper than iron
They tear the dragons from the air
And leave them to our dispatch
Swimming rivers of icor and scorched feathers
No blade upon the field is left thirsty
Foul blood etches our armour like acid
We reap with our shining ploughshares a harvest of justice 
- Lothithil