"How about a sardonic poem with overtones of paranoid angst, about the easternmost peak of the Thangorodrim?"
The easternmost peak of the Thangorodrim -
It looms with two others in dark, smoking pride.
Its ashen slopes, like a starving frog
Seek to frighten me in my dreams.
Is it haunting my dreams on purpose?
Does it know that I hate it?
I clench my fists, but I hide them behind my back.
Then I lift up my head and
I thumb my nose at it's hideous strength -
For it towers above its unfortunate inhabitants
And I, with a flip of my wrist,
Close the book on it.
Three great peaks raised by Melkor’s hand
They thrust skyward and oppress the land
Foul vapors and lava spew out on the plain
Where great battles fought and many were slain
The delving of Angband was its source
With slag and refuse to set its course
Here the great elven lord Maedhros hung in place
His right wrist pinned on the mountain’s face
The great Eagle Thorondor bore him away
His hand was lost as the price to pay
To gain freedom and fight Morgoth again
The Great Battle here was fought
the ruin of Morgoth was finally wrought
The great peaks broken by the dragon’s weight
Ancalagon the Black fell and was no more
The tumultuous ruin caused the land to roar
Uplifting and thrusting the earthen core
A force alas that caused the end
Of that famed realm of Beleriand