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 I am withdrawn.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 |
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2003 by Elvellon Ringsbane; sole property of author |