Tol in-Gaurhoth

My first assignment as Master Soronumë's apprentice was to write a poem about Beren and Lúthien.

Dark the tower, black the stone
Once laid by Finrod Felagund
Now they cover Finrod's bones
And Beren languishes alone
His journey done.

Sweet a voice calls from afar
That seeps through walls of dungeons grim
As twilight sends a single star
To guide the weary traveller
Towards his home.

Beren dreams of nightingales
That rouse him from his dark despair
Tinúviel before him sails
A dancing vision, moonlight pale,
With shadowed hair.

With song defiant he replies
And hails the starry sickle set
By gods above the northern skies
To challenge Morgoth and his rise:
A promised threat.

But Sauron hears the lonely pair
And laughs within his wicked heart.
He sends his minions from his lair
That Melian's daughter be ensnared
By his black art.

Yet one by one they fall before
The jaws of Huan, faithful hound
Til Sauron issues from the door
In form of werewolf, dripping gore
And is thrown down.

Now on the bridge the maiden stands
And musters all her mother's power.
The stones yield to her stern commands
Walls melt like mud beneath her hands
She takes the tower.

In bitter darkness they embrace
By faithful Finrod's sad remains
Who gave himself in Beren's place.
They bury him who died with grace
But not in vain:

Though Beren falls, and Lúthien dies
And kingdoms fail by traitor's stroke
A Silmaril will someday rise
To ever herald in the skies
Unconquered hope.