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Hail king of dwarves! Hail valor great,
Hail he who fell to crueler fate.
Amidst the ashes did he rise
And brought with him the drake's demise.
A company of thirteen strong
A halfling smooth of cheek he led;
Misfortune weaved its tainted song
Oh weaved it 'round his crownless head.
Alas! For though his armoured strength
Failed not against the orc-blades keen
Prone was he to the taunting length
Of love that unraveled from within.
The humble burglar was his One
With hair of gold and will of stone,
The king saw hope bright as a sun:
No longer would he be alone.
Beneath the misty mountains' loom
So vowed he by his noble name,
That in the days beyond the gloom
His side would be his One's to claim.
Through blood and grime shined on his brow
The blessing of old lovers' lore;
Great was his joy when at last a bow
Brought down the beast of Erebor.
Yet knew he not; a deadlier beast
Lay waiting in the halls of old,
A curse ancient that longed to feast
On dwarven minds with lure of gold.
His One saw this, its dangers clear
To eyes to which greed was unknown,
And so the one he held most dear
Was the one to take the Arkenstone.
Alas! For all his armoured might
By gold his path was made forlorn;
He cast his lover from his sight
With words of threat and harsher scorn.
An alliance through this was forged,
Three races joined forces on the moor
And grim-faced watched as there emerged
Troops marching down from Dol Guldur.
Azog Defiler pale and foul
The king faced on the battlefield,
But sickened as he was in soul
Dull were his strikes; weak was his shield.
Thus soon Orcrist was thrown aside
The orc drew back its arm to kill,
When with a howl of pain its hide
Was pierced through with a sword of skill.
And there he stood, his halfling love,
Who knelt and wrapped him in embrace;
They did not see when from above
Azog yet living swung the mace.
The battle-cries of eagles high
Rang victorious in his ear
While in his arms the dying sigh
Of love sealed true a desperate fear.
Hail king of dwarves! Hail he who wept
Sat on his throne of cold regret.
Swathed in the memory of vows unkept
So reigns he, never to forget.