Uneasy sleep...

In the last post, we witnessed the confrontation between the Dark Lord and Lúthien. The Lay goes on...

She let her flying raiment sweep,

enmeshed with woven spells of sleep,

as round the dark void she ranged and reeled.

From wall to wall she turned and wheeled

in dance such as never Elf nor fay

before devised, nor since that day;

than swallow swifter, than flittermouse

in dying light round darkened house

more silken-soft, more strange and fair

than sylphine maidens of the Air

whose wings in Varda's heavenly hall

in rhythmic movement beat and fall.

Down crumpled Orc, and Balrog proud;

all eyes were quenched, all heads were bowed;

the fires of heart and maw were stilled,

and ever like a bird she thrilled

above a lightless world forlorn

in ecstasy enchanted borne.

All eyes were quenched, save those that glared

in Morgoth's lowering brows, and stared

in slowly wandering wonder round,

and slow were in enchantment bound.

Their will wavered, and their fire failed,

and as beneath his brows there paled,

the Silmarils like stars were kindled

that in the reek of Earth had dwindled

escaping upwards clear to shine,

glistening marvellous in heaven's mine.

Then flaring suddenly they fell,

down, down upon the floors of hell.

The dark and mighty head was bowed;

like mountain-top beneath a cloud

the shoulders foundered, the vast form

crashed, as in overwhelming storm

huge cliffs in ruin slide and fall;

and prone lay Morgoth in his hall.

His crown there rolled upon the ground,

a wheel of thunder; then all sound

died, and a silence grew as deep

as were the heart of Earth asleep.