Justice for Lukus Glenn!
Lukus was a boy who is loved dearly by family and friends, taken violently and suddenly from them.
LO! Then the Lord of Hell Lying-hearted
to where Hurin hung hasted swiftly,
and the Balrogs about him brazen- handed
with frails of flame and forged iron
they laughed as they looked on his lonely woe;
but Bulglir said: "O bravest of men,
'tis fate infitting for thus fellhanded
warrior warfain that to worthless friends
his sword he should sell, who seek no more
to free him from fetters or his fall avenge.
While shrinking in the shadows they shake fearful
in the hungry hills hiding outcast
their league belying, lurking faithless,
Be by evil lot in everlasting
dungeons droopeth doomed to torment
and anguish endless. That thy arms unchained
I had fainer far should a falchion keen
or axe with edge eager flaming
wield in warfare where the wind bloweth
the banners of battle- such a brand as might
in my sounding smithies on the smitten anvil
of glowing steel to glad thy soul
be forged and fashioned, yea, and fair harness
and mail unmatched- than that marred with flails
my mercy waiving thou shouldst moan enchained
neath the brazen Balrogs' burning scourges:
who art worthy to win reward and honour
as a captain of arms when cloven is mail
and shields are shorn, whwhen they shake the hosts
of their foes like fire in fell onset.
Lo! Receive my service; forswear hatred
ancient anmity thus ill-counselled-
I am a mild master who remembers well
his servants' deeds A sword of terror
they hand dhould hold my loud armies,
whose royal array I already furneshh;
on Turgon the troll (who turned to flight
and left thee alone, now leaguered fast
in waterless wastes and weary mountains)
my wrath to wreak, and on redhanded
robber-Gnomes, rebels, and roaming Elves,
that forlorn witless the Lord of the World
defy in their folly- they shall feel my might.
I will bid men unbind thee, and thy body comfort!
Go follow their footsteps with fire and steel,
with thy sword go search their dwellings;
When in triumph victorious thou returnst hither,
I have hoards unthought-of" -
But Hurin Thalion
suffered no longer silent wordless;
through clenched teeth in clinging pain,
"o accursed king", cried unwavering,
"thy hopes build not so high, Bauglir;
no tool am I gor thy treasons vile,
who tryst nor troth, ever true holdest-
seek traitors elsewhere."
Morgoth amazed his mood hiding;
"Nay, madness hold thee; thy mind wanders;
my measureless hoards are mountains high
in secret piled uncounted
agaelong unopened; Elfin silver
and gold in the gloom there glister pale;
the gems and jewels once jealous-warded
in the mansions of the Gods, who mourn then yet,
are mine, and a meed I will mete thee thence
of wealth to glut the Worm of greed."
Then Hurin, hanging, in hate answered:
"Canst not learn of they lore when thou loo'st on a foe,
o Buuglir unblest? Bray no longer
of things thou hast thieved from the Three Kindreds!
In hate I hold thee. Thou art humbled indeed
and they might is minished if thy murderous hope
and cruel counsels on a captive sad
must wait, on a weak and weary man."
To the hosts of Hell his head then turned:
"Let thy foul banners go forth to battle,
ye Blarogs and Orcs; let your black legions
go seek th sweeping sword of Turgon.
Throu the disma dales you shall be driven wailing
like startled starlings from the stocks of wheat.
minions miserable of master base,
your doom dread ye, dire disaster!
The tide shall varnish. Your triumph brief
and victory shall vanish. I view afar
the wrath of the Gods roused in anger."
Then tumult awoke, a tempest wild
in rage roaring that rocked the walls;
consuming madness seized on Morgoth,
yet with lowered voice and leering mouth
Thus Thalion Erithamrod he threatened darkly:
'Thou has said it! See how my swift purpose
shall march to its mark unmarred of thee,
nor thy ad be asked, overweening
mortal mightless. I command thee gaze
on my deeds of power dreadly proven.
Yet if little they like thee, thou must look thereon
helpless to hinder or thy hand to raise,
and thy lidless eyes lit with anguish
shall not shut for ever, shorn of slumber
like the Gods shall gaze there grim, tearless
on the might of Morgoth and the meed he deals
to fools who refuse fealty gracious.'
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