The Noldor's strength undimmed and bright,
Before Angband, five days they fight.
Sons of the Cursed King,
Letting far their voices ring.
But through evil and deceitful lies,
There lets Morgoth his host in darkness rise.
Thence Turgon came,
To aid his brother Fingon, blood the same.
And with him came the host of Gondolin,
Shining mail and silver spears they've ever been.
Then trompets' sound rang unto the cloud
And far to be heard was Fingon's shout:
"Utúlie'n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlië'n aurë!"
Those who down by ashes bravely fought,
Far aloft was now their thought.
"Auta i lómë!",
The elves there called,
And stabbed by Azaghâl's blade, the dragon-father crawled,
Back into Angband's depths, dungeons of so very old.
But fate struck Fingon in Gothmog's form,
The elven king so high and worn,
The Balrogs sought to overwhelm,
Into two was cloven the Silver Helm.
Thus fell the king,
His star went dim
His banner silver-blue,
Morgoth's Darkness overthrew.
But Húrin and Huor, bravest men
Highest legend they became.
Singing Húrin hurled his axe:
"Aurë entuluva!"
Such glory of the past,
Heroes, wars and sorrow vast;
Held now in ancient lore,
Was never seen like this once more.
