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The scythe of woe sweeping across

In the land of Fingolfin;

Riding alone into the night

The King is loyal to his oath!

Storming on fast, storming with wrath,

To the gates of iron shod:

The Elvenking will sound his horn

When the clash of honor calls!

Wind in his hair, fair in despair

The flame of challenge burning in his eyes!

Underneath the star of doom

Shines deadly the sword of the Elvenking!

“Thus he came alone to Angband’s gates, and he sounded his horn and smote once more upon the brazen doors, and challenged Morgoth to come forth to single combat. And Morgoth came.”

Lamenting wind haunting the North

In the tone of battling steel;

Dueling on thunderous peaks

Might of Morgoth is unleashed!

Grond pounds again, shatters the shield,

Noble blood in rivers spilled:

Fingolfin falls down in defeat

Broken ‘neath his enemy!

Wind in his hair, fair in despair

The flame of challenge burning in his eyes!

Underneath the star of doom

Shines deadly the sword of the Elvenking!