Fingolfin, wise, fearless, fair,
the son of Indis Golden-hair,
King of the Noldor, rode to war
'gainst the Enemy, dark Melkor.
His hosts he clad in silver bright
and blue like blue sky at twilight.
Their glit'ring spears and shining swords
they bore, o'er once green woodland swards
that now lay bare and burnt and black.
Through the Anfauglith, Melkor's wrack
they rode in speed, and e'er foremost
went Fingolfin, lord of the host.

As surging wave in stormy sea
they the hosts of the enemy
swept in a furious onslaught
and the captains of Morgoth fought.
But ever more the glamhoth came,
and Balrogs wielding whips of flame.
Then Fingolfin in his despair
leapt on his great horse, strong and fair.
He took up Ringil, his great sword,
and his blue shield. And through the horde
of enemies alone he rode,
e'en to Melkor's dark abode.

A light undying in his eyes
there shone as starlight in the skies,
and things of darkness fell away
before him in that glorious day.
He smote upon the brazen gate,
and in a voice both fell and great,
called to the dark king inside
the gloomy halls; and far and wide
His valiant challenge could be heard.
In the halls the Enemy stirred.
As up he came. Fingolfin proud
stood before the iron gate,
weapon drawn, his foe to await.

The gates sprang open; on he came,
evil's lord; shadow was his hame
and bitter lightning was his crown.
He raised his hammer black; and down
On Fingolfin with thund'rous noise
it came; Fingolfin changed his poise;
as he leapt aside, a stroke did give
fierce and true. His sword did cleave
that dark flesh; an awful cry
gave Melkor, echoing in the sky.
All things of evil: his dark hosts
Trembled and cowered; and the ghosts
of things long dead, they wheeled and cried
above the towers; far and wide
the Elven-hosts in triumph sang.
Six more times then Ringil rang.
Six more times, as harpers tell,
Fingolfin struck. But fierce and fell
was Melkor. Ere built was world,
ere the Sea sang, ere Spring unfurled,
he walked alone in the abyss.
Fire and Darkness, they both were his.
He swung his hammer now aloft
and down. Fingolfin swiftly brought
his shield, the blow to deflect.
Melkor, quickly, without reflect
on Fingolfin his foot did place
huge and heavy. Now his mace
he brought on him. With dying stroke,
Fingolfin Varda did evoke,
and hewed the foot with broken sword.
Thus ended the great Elven-lord.

From the cold North the wind now blew
To Thangorodrim the Eagles flew.
Birds of Manwë, they abode
By Gondolin, where the light of old
was still preserved. Now down they swept
Through the mountain ways and cleft.
They lifted up the broken form
of Fingolfin; amid the storm
they bore him e'en to Gondolin.
In a high mound was Fingolfin
bestowed, and as elven harpers sing
there never will come an evil thing.

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